


The Holy Five

by Deathofme



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:44:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathofme/pseuds/Deathofme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Only the chosen left alive, immortals all the Holy Five."</p><p>The Age of Romance wanes as the Age of Reason takes its new faltering steps. The young and innocent Five as they first discover a new world of abnormals hidden from view, the secrets of source blood, and how to navigate the inevitable changes of their relationship with the times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [palmaceae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/palmaceae/gifts).



 

 _“Only the chosen left alive, immortals all the holy five.”_

-John Druitt, Sanctuary For All (Part 2)

 

PROLOGUE

***

 

 

         “Dear gods…James, get your pistol.”

 

         “No, don’t!” Helen cried, holding her slashed arm awkwardly at her side. “For heaven’s sake, James, don’t.”

 

         James looked between Helen and John, alarmed. John was livid, the colour having drained from his face. Helen was similarly pale, the blood seeping through the sleeve of her dress but she was pleading with him to spare Nikola.

 

         The small laboratory had been torn apart, furniture splintered and large gouges split in the walls and floor. It was only moments after Nikola had been injected with the source blood that he began to feel ill. His body began to seize, undergoing a transformation that he could not control, and he screamed at the body that betrayed him. Nigel and John were trying to pin him to the floor as best they could, Nikola still writhing as if he were trying to claw out of his very skin.

 

 “Cannot you see he needs us?” Helen cried.

 

         James’ face hardened at the sight of her mangled arm. “That is not the Nikola you know, Helen.” Refusing to hear another plea, he dashed for his quarters nearby.

 

         An unearthly howl tore from Nikola’s throat and Helen sobbed harder. She reached for them and John cried out in alarm. “Stay your distance! He’s already close to breaking loose again!”

 

         James burst into the room, pistol cocked and ready to fire. He nodded at John who wrestled Nikola towards James’ direction. James breathed a quiet “forgive me” and fired a bullet into Nikola’s chest.

 

         Nikola slumped back like a puppet with its strings cut. Nigel and John exchanged a nervous look, still holding onto his arms. “Dear god, is he dead?” Nigel asked.

 

         Nikola lurched forward unexpectedly, eyes still black, pointed teeth bared and James fired again, the bullet burying itself between Nikola’s eyes.

 

         “That is _enough_!” Helen roared.

 

         Nikola lay cold and still on the floor, when John and Nigel finally let go of his arms. Helen and James rushed over to check his pulse. John pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and bound Helen’s arm.

 

         James’ barely blinked as he counted the seconds on his pocket watch. “He is alive…but his pulse is very weak.”

         “Look, James…the bleeding has already stopped.” Helen carefully examined the wound on Nikola’s chest, braving herself to check next on the hideous one marring his face.

 

         John looked about the destroyed room and the man, now just a man as the vampiric features faded, bleeding on the floor. “We have unleashed a monster.”

 

         Nigel looked sombrely about them all. “Yes, but in whom?”

 

***

 

         When Nikola awoke next it was to find himself in Gregory Magnus’ private infirmary. He looked down quickly at his hands, trembling, to see if the black talons were still there.

 

         Helen rushed over to his side. “Are you all right?” She lifted up the bandages from his face, astonished to find no trace of the wound. “Not even a scar…” she breathed in wonder.

 

         “What…what happened?”

 

         She gave him a small, apologetic smile. “You gave us a bit of a fright. It seems you hold more secrets than even you know yourself, Nikola.”

 

         He looked as if he were going to be sick. “So…so I am the nightmare mothers tell their children to scare them at night…”

 

         “No, no—“

 

         “And Oxford? What have you told them?” He refused to look at her, shrugging away from her touch.

 

         Helen looked down at her hands, playing nervously with fingers. “You are not allowed back.”

 

         The news wounded him more than he himself expected. He looked sharply away from her, turning his gaze to the window instead. It was snowing. It reminded him of Smiljan.

 

         “It is cruel, the condition of man…” he began softly, still staring at the fat snow flakes falling to the ground. “We have the will and power to play at Gods…but not the wisdom to realize it is never truly play. Not until it is too late.”

 

         Helen didn’t know what to say, scared of the desperate, somber mood that had taken over her friend. She reached out for his hand, but again he pulled away as if burnt.

 

         “You need to rest, Nikola.”

 

         He shook his head. “I need to go. First ship from here…”

 

         Helen felt as if she had been slapped. Her voice threatened to break as she tried to keep her anger and betrayal in check. “Running away? Just because some stuffy school has decided they have had enough of you – when have you ever let another’s opinion colour your own?”

 

         He looked at her this time, a knowing gaze piercing hers and causing her to blush with shame. His eyes flickered from the engagement ring on her finger back to the wintry scene outside.

 

         “The Five wasn’t forever, Helen. We all knew we would not be traveling down the same paths…” His lips quirked into a small smile. “Some of us are not that lucky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my beta for hand-holding, grammar-thwapping, and keeping me in time with Victorian England. I will shout out her name after the reveal. Much research has gone into the development of this story, but undoubtedly there will be a few anachronisms here and there for which scientific discoveries would have been recognized at the time, for which I beg your forgiveness. All mistakes (and contractions!) are mine.


	2. War of the Ages

         “…and thus, the Law of Diminishing Returns dictates that you stay _awake_ in class, Mr. Griffin, lest you see this demonstrated in your class evaluation.”

 

         Nigel jerked awake with a well-placed jab in the ribs, upsetting the pile of notes on his desk as the rest of the lecture laughed at the display. He looked around and saw Tesla slip him a wink and scowled as he massaged his sore ribs.

 

         “It beggars belief Mr. Griffin, that I must conduct a class of grown men as if you were all still in grammar school. Although you do possess a certain talent for immaturity.”

 

         Nigel seemed unfazed by the second chorus of laughter that remark gained, neatly gathering his papers together without a hint of embarrassment. “My mother called it charm, sir.”

 

         The professor snorted. “Yes, well, the Scottish do have some peculiar ideas on what constitutes ‘charm’.”

 

         That barb finally cut through Nigel’s cheeky good humour and his hands clenched into fists. “Yes, it is a pity it doesn’t involve staying one’s tongue from a man’s personal affair like bickering dogs.”

 

         “To the Dean’s office, Mr. Griffin! You are dismissed from my class.”

 

         Nigel gathered his things and marched out the door with his head held high. He couldn’t resist throwing a rude gesture at the professor’s back just before he slammed the door shut, causing another eruption of laughter.

 

         The professor glared at the spot Nigel had vacated. “Well, gentlemen…thus demonstrates the end result of a mean upbringing—“

 

         “Excuse me, Doctor White,” Nikola began in silky tones, stressing the Slavic clip in his accent “but I believe we were discussing the observance of economic laws, not the troubled affairs of race relations in England.”

 

         The professor glared daggers at Nikola, who just grinned wider and continued. “Or perhaps I was mistaken in selecting this lecture if its contents deviates so much from the syllabus.”

 

         Doctor White stammered. “Of course, the Law of Diminishing Returns observes three core accordance’s…” While Nikola was already gaining a troublesome reputation, and sometimes disliked for being foreign, he was on a full scholarship, which afforded him some immunity with professors who taught outside of his specialty. He harboured a small grin the entire way through lecture and gave Doctor White an ironic bow as the class left.

 

         He found Nigel sitting outside the Dean’s office, smoking and in a foul mood. Nigel glanced up amd threw his cigarette away. “Do not tell Helen I got kicked out of a class again.”

 

         Nikola rolled his eyes. “Did your Scottish charm work on the Dean, or has he finally caught onto the trick?”

 

         Nigel got to his feet. “Stuff it, Serb.” He clapped a hearty hand to Nikola’s shoulder precisely because the other man hated being touched, and cheerfully said, “Let’s go to the pub.”

 

         James Watson and John Druitt were already occupying the fireside table at the Five Lords, lost in a heated discussion. Nikola growled under his breath, “the poet again” as Nigel grabbed them two drinks at the bar.

 

         “Do they not have poetry in the East?” Nigel laughed.

 

         Nikola frowned at the pint of ale offered to him and waved it away. “We do. We also believe you’re already damned to mediocrity if you need schooling in it.”

 

         “Ah, my ears do burn…it must be our infamous foreign dignitary,” Druitt drawled ironically as Nigel and Nikola pulled up extra chairs to the table. Nikola smiled mirthlessly at him, making a point to wipe his hands clean on a napkin.

 

         James sniffed and wiped his nose, a finger still shaking at Druitt to emphasize his point. “Surely, John, you underestimate the importance of all these factors working in conjunction. It is all well and good to speak of a man’s soul, but the stomach and harshness of day-to-day life are more immediate. A poor man in dearth will sooner turn to more desperate means, oft turning to crime, and solace in scripture or belief alone will not soothe him.”

 

         Druitt laughingly pushed the waving finger from his face. “Men are ultimately creatures of the _heart_ , James. It is not cynical reason alone that dictates our conduct. Religion speaks to a very man’s soul, his emotions, his feelings – these are greater powers than the turn of markets or trade.”

 

         Nigel and Nikola glanced at each other and rolled their eyes simultaneously. Nigel knocked back half of his pint in one swallow to steel himself against the mini-lecture.

 

         “You’d say then, old boy,” Druitt was waving his finger in James’ face now. “That a man can never outstrip his mortal bonds, be they fear, hunger, poverty…that he will always be kept in his station by the trappings of the world?”

 

         James leant back in consideration and finally said. “Yes. Yes I do. Religion is meant to keep men in their place by elevating them in mind alone and even then it cannot sustain him. We are in the Age of Reason now, John.”

 

         “No, James, we are in the Age of Romance. Sod your Augustan reasoning.” James laughed at that and John continued. “I would find it a very poor world indeed where a man is slave to his rage, his sadness and cannot rise above it to be a better being.”

 

         James suddenly looked to Nikola, eyes sharp and calculating. “You must have an opinion on all this, Tesla. You’re a man of science, but from a religious background as well. Your father was an orthodox minister, was he not?”

 

         Nikola’s eyebrows shot up in alarm, and then narrowed with suspicion. “How do you know of it?”

 

         James shrugged nonchalantly. “I like knowing about people.”

 

         “Then you should know I am a firm atheist,” Nikola snapped broodingly.

 

         Nigel set down his pint glass, now empty, and made a great show of wiping the foam comically left behind on his lips. “Thing about you chaps is you love extemporizing on subjects you could never really hold an opinion on.”

 

         James and John shared an alarmed look, but considered Nigel with heightened interest. James gestured to Nigel. “Go on.”

 

         “You want to talk about whether a man turns to crime because his poverty is inevitable to his behaviour. To his instincts…in the end he is a man, not some inferior species. You can theorize all you want, but if you are truly seeking an answer than flapping your mouths about it will not get you anywhere. Neither of you have worked for anything in your lives, you have never felt a rough day. What then lends you to have an opinion on the common experience?”

 

         Nigel tucked neatly away into the second pint meant for Nikola, and casually gestured towards John. “Your father owns a lot of land and you have been to the best grammar schools in London. And you James, your father is a renowned lecturer. You are here studying under his name.”

 

         James stroked the side of his face thoughtfully, his eyes skimming over Nigel’s worn clothes. “Have we offended you with our silly musings, old boy? You know it is just to fill the hours.”

 

         John snapped his fingers for the proprietor. “Let us buy you another drink.”

 

         Nikola scoffed. “Yes, because you’re illuminating all the prejudices against peasantry by getting drunk before noon.”

 

         The men at the table grew deadly silent, until Nigel began to roar with laughter. “Picko jedna, your royal highness!”

 

         Nikola rolled his eyes. “I should never have taught you how to curse in my tongue.”

 

         Nigel slammed back another two pints and was hardly any worse for wear, if a little more indulgent in his bawdy jokes. Nikola relented and ordered a glass of wine, stating he needed it to tolerate the increasing “cheer” of the company.

 

         When the hour struck one, all men immediately rose to their feet. Druitt raised a mocking eyebrow at Nikola’s seeming urgency. “So keen for your next lecture, Mr. Tesla?”

 

         Nikola sniffed. “I never miss a class I’m enrolled in, Mr. Druitt. Though what a poet finds so fascinating about anatomy that he will audit the courses is beyond me…” Nikola gave a knowing look to James. “…unless it is the company of a certain individual he is more interested in.”

 

         Nigel quickly grabbed Nikola’s arm and dragged him away from Druitt before a fight could break out. “Did you never get beaten up in Serbia?” Nigel hissed, trying to keep his mirth at bay.

 

         Druitt stiffened and took more care with the creases in his suit jacket than he normally concerned himself with. “He’s rude.”

 

         James tried to hide an indulgent smile, knowing how fragile his friend’s pride was. “And he wears his heart on his sleeve. Much like you, John. It is little wonder the pair of you cannot help antagonizing the other.”

 

***

 

         Helen tried to hide a grin and failed when the four men swanned into lecture, all looking inordinately pleased with themselves. Ah, what an hour or two at the pub could do for a man’s soul.

 

         “Nigel has been dismissed from Doctor White’s class again,” Nikola said before there was even a chance for “good afternoon”. Nigel rounded on him. “You cunt.”

 

         “Griffin,” Watson sounded scandalized. “Calm your tongue when you’re in a lady’s company.”

 

         Helen merely smiled. “Thank you, James, but my father has a flair for language that could make even Nigel blush.”

 

         John bowed to her, briefly holding her hand. “Would you care for a seat beside James and I today?”

 

         Helen grinned coyly and curtsied, taking Nikola’s arm instead. “Thank you, Mr. Druitt, but I am afraid the front row is too conspicuous for me. Besides, I have enjoyed the role of acclimatizing our foreign ambassador. It is important to foster good relations.”

 

         Druitt gave her a charming smile and lowered his voice to a mock-whisper. “Think of the scandal.”

 

         She tried to hide her smile, failing endearingly, and made her way to the row of seats at the back of the hall with Nikola and Nigel. It was a game that played out at every lecture, a small flirting dance that navigated polite gestures, greetings and gentle withdrawals…that were far from rejections.

 

         Nigel suspected the only one who did not understand or even recognize the game was Nikola, insulated from English civility and indirectness until now.

 

         Truth being, Helen would never be able to sit at the front row without sparking comment. She was only allowed to audit courses, and even then on the implicit condition that she not turn the university’s special exception into her case as a political platform. This was another hidden dance Tesla refused to understand, and thought Helen liked sitting at the back purely because she, like he, did not feel the need to draw attention to herself to command respect.

 

         James was the professor’s favourite, and they were already in discussion of his taking an assisting role, so he was obliged to sit at the front. John would not abandon his friend, but it was precisely that he never turned back to glance at Helen that she knew he was always conscious of her presence.

 

         “And what landed you in trouble again, Nigel?” Helen asked surreptitiously.

 

         “He fell asleep,” Nikola supplied unhelpfully, eliciting a groan from Nigel. Helen hid a giggle and instead opened up her notes. She pulled out the assignment from last class and glanced over to Nigel’s work.

 

         “Oh, your illustrations are always far superior to mine,” she enthused, looking over his diagram of the bones in the human hand.

 

         Nikola frowned. “Yes, but you have labeled them all incorrectly…that is not the metacarpal, you dunce.”

 

         Nigel snatched back his diagram. “Where’s yours, then?”

 

         Nikola shrugged. “I did not do it.”

 

         “Why ever not?” Helen asked.

 

         Nikola folded his arms behind his head and leaned back in his chair. “I do not care if I pass this course, and Doctor Thompson cannot teach my anything. The man is a drunk.”

 

         “Pride doth come before a fall, mate,” Nigel hissed.

 

         “Athiest, remember?”

 

         “Gentlemen, hush,” Helen scolded, though to be honest their banter amused her more than anything. Being relegated to the back row was sometimes galling and made her angry, but the blow was softened by the company. Nikola and Nigel always made sure to sit either side of her so she would not feel isolated. She respected and admired James for his passion for knowledge, so like hers, but his unfailing pursuit of it sometimes left her behind.

 

         “Alright then, gentlemen, today we shall be picking up discussion of the hand and comparing it with the skeletal structure of the foot.” Doctor Thompson strode in with a perpetual air of no-nonsense, moving aside sliding chalkboards to reveal diagrams James had carefully drawn up the night before. “You will notice many key similarities in structure…”

 

         Doctor Thompson suddenly trailed off, staring at his hand. The class murmured amongst themselves as the pause grew longer.

 

         “Doctor, are you quite well?” James asked. Suddenly, Doctor Thompson began clawing at his hand, horror distorting his face. “Get off…get off of me!”

 

         The man shrieked and fell to the floor, clawing at himself and writhing. The class erupted into chaos, and there were startled yelps when Doctor Thompson began bleeding from cuts that mysteriously opened on his face.

 

         James was immediately on his feet. “Get help! Quickly!” John ran out of the room to do so, and James rushed over to Doctor Thompson’s side.

 

         “Stop! Get off!” The man kept shrieking as James tried to pull him to his feet. His eyes wide with fear, the clawing stopped and Doctor Thompson slid to the floor, silent. James staggered back, astonished. “He’s dead.”

 

         Just as suddenly as the episode began it was over. Doctor Thompson lay cold on the floor with gashes covering him that seemed to appear from nowhere.

 

         Nigel, Nikola and Helen all exchanged alarmed looks.

 

         “Good heavens,” Helen breathed.

 

***

 

         Helen sat, deep in thought, interrupted when Nikola brought her a glass of wine. “Oh, I do not know if wine is appropriate—“

 

         Nikola frowned, still holding out the glass. “Do women not drink in England? Take it. We have both witnessed a disturbing event.”

 

         Helen hesitated another moment before finally taking the glass. Nikola sat beside her, opening the window in his rooms to let in some air.

 

         Nikola was the only one who lived on the school grounds, though James was soon acquiring quarters as a professor’s assistant. Everyone else had apartments or family to stay with. Helen often found herself here for the convenience of being able to have a restful hour to read or study without commuting back and forth from her father’s house.

 

         Though the true appeal of these private quarters was the change in attitude and atmosphere. Nikola knew and cared nothing of scandal. He saw nothing untoward in entertaining a woman in his rooms, drinking with her, and expecting no other form of companionship. The idea seemed alien to him, often it was as if he did not even care if she was present, usually lost in his own inventions and experiments on electrical current.

 

         She felt sexless in this room, and it was liberating. Her being a woman was the last reason considered for her being invited or barred.

 

         “What do you think happened to Doctor Thompson?”

 

         Nikola shrugged, sprinkling more birdseed on his windowsill. “I think the likeliest suspect is some form of disease. Watson was telling me of some disturbing pathogens found in the tropics.”

 

         Helen frowned, her mind racing at a hundred miles an hour. “But the effects were almost instantaneous. Surely he would have exhibited some symptoms beforehand, a fever perhaps. But what we witnessed was more…dramatic.”

 

         “It was certainly the most interesting lecture he has ever given.”

 

         Helen glared at him. “That is an unkind thing to say, Nikola.”

 

         He threw up his hands. “But it is true! Who knows what happened to the man – so long as it is not contagious.” He suddenly eyed her with suspicion. “You did not touch him afterward, did you?”

 

         Helen rolled her eyes. “I did not. Do not worry, Nikola, I am not the bearer of a disease to undo you.”

 

         There was a knocking at the door and Helen immediately tried to hide her glass out of view. While Nikola was indifferent to scandal, she still feared for maintaining a respectable reputation. Her continued attendance at Oxford and her father’s name depended on it.

 

         Nigel stuck his head through the door and she sighed with relief, trying to hide the blush that had formed on her face. “Having fun, you two?”

 

         Nikola held up his bottle with a grimace of distaste. “If fun is how you could describe English wine.”

 

         Nigel quickly shut the door behind him. “It seems our class was not the only one disturbed this afternoon. Doctor Stevens in Metallurgy just had the same fit.”

 

         Nikola suddenly recoiled away from Nigel, a handkerchief protecting his mouth and nose. “Did you touch the body?”

 

         Nigel gave Helen a bewildered look. “What’s he on about?”

 

***

 

         “Moving up in the world, old boy,” John commented wryly.

 

         James was in no mood to be cheered up, still affected by his mentor’s death. “Only by the most egregious of circumstance.” He grabbed his surgical kit from his chambers and packed it into his medical bag.

 

         John stood quietly by the door, brooding, until finally he spoke. “You should ask Helen to assist you.”

 

         James glanced up briefly, and then laughed, returning to his packing. John indulged in none of the laughter and repeated again firmly. “You should ask her.”

 

         “An autopsy is hardly a place to bring a lady of her upbringing—“

 

         John shook his head disapprovingly. “Do not dare say delicate manners or any of that sod, James. Helen’s upbringing is as a doctor. She is Gregory Magnus’ daughter.”

 

         James looked up in annoyance. “And do not even dare to insinuate that I am trying to diminish her qualities. She is brilliant, courageous, and I admire her. But this is an operation dictated by Scotland Yard. _I_ am flattered to be asked to conduct it. I need someone to assist me who has had practical experience in these matters.”

 

         “And she _has_ that. She has been assisting Gregory for years, even before Oxford. She has the expertise, James.” John strode over and picked up James’ medical bag. “And she needs someone to show support and confidence in her abilities. I may not be a doctor, but your name…your support carries weight.”

 

         James sighed heavily, rubbing his face as he battled with his conscience. He finally looked at John and relented. “You are good to her when I cannot be. All right, John, I shall make the offer.”

 

         “Good man.” John and James walked out into the streets and hailed a carriage.

 

         Inside, James pulled out a small snuffbox. Trembling, he took a pinch of the white powder inside and quickly sniffed it. “Accelerates one’s cerebral capacities,” he explained at John’s somewhat disapproving look. “And by god do I need to be on my game for this.”

 

***

 

         “Helen, the bone saw please.”

 

         Nikola turned away and quickly excused himself from the observance arena. There were enough things that disturbed him about the human body, and he had stomached all he could of it being on display.

 

         To his annoyance it was to find John Druitt sitting outside. He was writing in a small pocket notebook with a pencil, and glanced up briefly when he saw Nikola pass by. “Squeamish?”

 

         Nikola sniffed and fiddled with his cuffs. “And yourself?”

 

         Druitt laughed, closing his notebook and stowing it away into his coat pocket. “The poet and the electrician. We are both out of place in the operating room.”

 

         “At least I have a place in science.”

 

         “And I in the matters of the heart,” John said wryly, quirking an eyebrow upwards. “Let us not grasp at straws, it is unbecoming of men.”

 

         Nigel suddenly came out of the operating hall as well, fishing for his case of tobacco. “Blimey, if there isn’t a _stink_ in there.” He began rolling up a cigarette and then glanced up awkwardly as he noticed the tense silence between the two men. “Fancy a nip down to the pub? They’ll be at this for hours.”

 

         “Thank you, but I’ll retire.” Nikola walked stiffly away from them without any bow or nod of he head. John muttered. “Rude”.

 

         Nigel shrugged. “He’s foreign. The men are taught different where he’s from.”

 

         “How long will that excuse his behaviour? He takes advantage of our understanding and tolerance.”

 

         Nigel frowned, and then shrugged again. “He’s a laugh. Come on, let’s have a drink. _Sir_.”

 

         John glared at him and the mocking curtsy he received, but walked with Nigel to the Five Lords.

 

***

 

         Nikola sat down heavily at his desk, the door to his room firmly shut and locked. He was in no mood to entertain anyone, not even brilliant Helen, tonight.

 

         He looked to the rudimentary motor sitting on his desk. He was certain it would work, he just needed to find the right metal to house the wiring and act as a conductor. Who knew, who could ever suspect that in these small rooms tucked away from view there was a man with a machine that would completely rewrite the world. Alternating current. Clean, free energy for all people.

 

         But who cared to look? Who would care to listen if he decided to be noisier about his accomplishments? Nikola had come to Oxford for the opportunities, there was nothing left for him in Austria, and he had had to prove his worth ten times over for England to accept him. And even then he felt that at every turn they wanted him to know he was merely here at an invitation, which was graciously given, and could be revoked at any time.

 

         England. Pah! They were a nation of people who never spoke what was on their minds, never did what their hearts desired, and were all afraid of ambition.

 

         But Helen…the world had told her “you can’t” and “it is unbecoming” and “you must not” and she had had to prove herself worth a score of any other man at Oxford. She was someone who embraced ambition and allowed for no obstacles in the pursuit of her work. She was probably the only person in the entire country that could understand what drove Nikola to sleepless nights, hundreds of patent designs, and dozens of failed prototypes.

 

         Electricity…that fascinating element which lurked unseen in every corner and when she wished to make her appearance known, did so in the most dramatic fashion possible. Brilliant bolts of hot, searing light. She could tear apart the earth and spark fires to devastate lives. Yet she could be so gentle that she coursed through every man’s heart and brain in a feather’s touch.

 

         And no one in England wanted to know that the Serb, the foreigner, had tamed that wild mistress and danced with her in ways men could not even conceive of. It did not matter for once his work went public they would all swallow their pride.

 

         A poet…what place did a poet have amongst any of that? Why did they need a commentator on the heart and soul in the arena of discovery and innovation? Nikola could not understand what had proven John so important to James and Helen that he had been accepted right away, when he had worked so hard for his place beside them.

 

***

 

         “It is not a disease, put away your handkerchief,” James said wearily, wiping his hands dry and sitting down heavily in a chair. He thanked John, who passed him a glass of warm water, and stirred in some of the contents of his snuffbox.

 

         “That looks bitter,” Helen commented dryly.

 

         “Most tonics are,” James replied with a self-conscious smirk. “But I have found no other as successful in stimulating thought and wakefulness.”

 

         Nikola pulled a face. “You could try coffee.”

 

         “Philistine,” Helen quipped.

 

         “Well, what was it then?” Nigel pressed. They were all seated in a private room at the Five Lords in the young hours of the morning. James and Helen had finally completed the autopsy and Scotland Yard had taken Doctor Thompson’s body into their possession.

 

         “The results are…inconclusive.” James looked pained at the admission, swallowing the contents of his glass quickly to dull his shame. John gave him a sympathetic look and squeezed his shoulder.

 

         “There was no trace of any disease or any infection of the organs…Doctor Thompson was in perfect health,” Helen said, just as bewildered.

 

         “But the cuts on his face, how did they appear?” Nikola asked.

 

         James mumbled unhappily. “I have no sodding clue. They wee all clean cuts, minimal fraying of the tissue, and as if they had been done with a blade.”

 

         “Or an animal,” Helen said quietly.

 

         James waved her away with a hand. “No animal could have done this, we have already gone over it, Helen—“

 

         “There are species of beings that we have never even heard of before, James,” she snapped, annoyed at his dismissive manner. “New ones are discovered every day. With renewed trade with foreign countries, particularly the Dark Continent, it is quite possible for an animal to have stowed away on an export ship and carried over here. Something we have never encountered before…it should seem to us as a monster.”

 

         Nigel looked puzzled, tactfully sidestepping what appeared to be a long-standing debate between James and Helen. “Was it the cuts on his face that killed him then?”

 

         James sighed deeply, finishing what remained in his glass. “That’s the devil, isn’t it? Those cuts wouldn’t have succumbed him to death on their own. The man died of shock.”

 

         Nikola raised a dark eyebrow. “Perhaps it was a monster he saw after all then.”

 

         Nigel laughed. “Yeah, mate. You were in his line of sight.”

 

***

 

         “Have you not had enough for one night?” John spoke with a controlled measure of nonchalance, but James could hear the rebuke in his tone.

 

         Irritated, he snapped, “There is no need to mother me, John.” James immediately regretted the words the instant they left his mouth, and grasped for John’s hand. “I am sorry, old boy…just place, spare me a lecture tonight. I am feeling out of sorts.”

 

         John smiled and grasped James by the arm, helping the man out of the cab and to his apartment. “The brilliant James Watson lost for an answer? Yes, these are troubling signs indeed.”

 

         James stomped the mud from his boots before stepping through his door, tiredly hanging up his coat. “I just cannot wrap my mind around it…those lacerations could not have originated from any condition inherent to Doctor Thompson. They _had_ to have been inflicted upon him. But we saw _nothing_ of his attacker.”

 

         John hung up his coat as well and walked with James to the small study room. He forced James to sit down on the sofa, eyeing the other man’s trembling hands with concern. “The man saw something, we all saw his peculiar behaviour. Perhaps Helen is right—“

 

         James groaned. “Helen this and Helen that. She could never do any wrong in your eyes, John. Frankly, you have become quite tiring in that your conversations never deviates far from the subject.”

 

         John hid his wounded pride and his voice grew cool. “Those are crueler words than deserve you, James. I would not see fit to forgive you, save I know your bitterness is fuelled by a disappointment in me.”

 

         James covered his face with a trembling hand, squeezing his eyes shut tight. He could not bear to look at John just yet, and his voice held a tremor as he spoke. “We are old friends, John, are we not? The oldest of friends.”

 

         John leant forward, his anger melting away. “We are the best of friends, old boy.” He took James’ spare hand in his own.

 

         James sighed, squeezing John’s hand back. “I know it was foolish to think we would never separate and go our own ways. We must all grow up and accept our place in the world…I suppose I just never tried to consider that bleak day—“

 

         John shushed him, pulling the hand covering James’ face away. “Pull yourself together, man – do not fall prey to such dark thoughts. My heart is large enough, my care for you great enough that you will not be abandoned.”

 

         James laughed a touch mirthlessly, waving John away, though pain still outlined the creases of his smile. “And who is that fair to? No, no, John, do not let me hold you back. We must all accept our due responsibility and position in society, and you are happy to take that mantle. You can be my teacher in this, I am afraid I will be the staggering pupil, still wishing to embrace the old grammar school day, and unwilling to learn. I am at fault here, not you.”

 

         John looked sick, unable to hear the grief his friend was going through, and leant forward to place a kiss on James’ brow. James’ hand shot out, gripping the front of John’s shirt and allowing him to advance no further. His voice had hardened to steel. “Save those for Helen, John. She is the only one who should deserve them now.”

 

***

 

         “Nikola, it is not appropriate—“ Helen flushed furiously when he snorted at that and ignored her. His apathy for convention was what made her like him so much, but it often frustrated her that he would listen to none of it. Even when she was asking.

 

         “And you are not being logical,” he interrupted before she could berate him further. “And I only answer to logic and reason. It is already three hours past midnight and you have a class at eleven. The commute to your father’s is three hours going both ways, and you obviously need time to ready yourself for bed and for waking. We shall call that another two hours.” He winked at the flushed expression on her face. “That leaves you with only three hours to devote to sleep. Highly insufficient for you to be able to process any length of knowledge, it will be detrimental to your education.”

 

         Helen huffed, folding her arms across her chest. “You are being willfully obtuse.”

 

         He frowned at her, confused. “You come here to rest between lectures every day or when you wait for your father’s carriage. I do not see how this is any different.”

 

         “Because I would be _sleeping_ here,” she hissed, “in your _bed_. That is a privilege only for the married, and unbecoming of an unattached woman.”

 

         Nikola laughed, still refusing to take her concerns seriously. “It is a bed, an object, surely you sleep in one regularly. And I am not using it. I will be at a late night demonstration of Professor Grierson’s work. The sheets are clean, I have new ones sent for every morning, and will request new ones after you make use of them.”

 

         Helen sighed, seeing he would not budge on the subject. He frowned at her. “You will accept my offer or you will not, that is your privilege. I am merely outlining why I believe your concerns are unnecessary.”

 

         She rolled her eyes at him. “Do the women conduct themselves so wildly in the snow regions of Serbia?”

 

         “Smiljan,” he corrected, “and they are practical. God-fearing, hard-working and practical.” He grimaced and added as an afterthought. “And have no love for science.”

 

         Helen laughed at that, and then hurriedly brought a hand to her face as a yawn crept upon her. Nikola gave her a look as if to saw the argument was over, and strode from the room.

 

         No bows, no gallant kisses of the hand, no respectful greetings to mark his exits or entrances…Helen envied him that ignorance. She waited a few minutes, saw that he had truly gone and no one was about, and locked the door. She fretted a few moments more, but sleep’s beckoning call was too overwhelming and she found her head gratefully falling against his pillow.

 

***

 

         “Come on, you deserve a drink.” Nigel pushed a pint of ale towards Nikola, who pulled a face and pushed it back.

 

         “Why are you always trying to make me drink this piss?” Nikola gestured for a glass of wine from the proprietor instead, whom he had already carefully instructed on which wines were fit to drink and which were only useful for cleaning rust and killing rats.

 

         “So,” Nigel asked slyly, “how did you manage it?”

 

         Nikola was still bewildered. “Manage what?”

 

         “I saw Helen leaving your rooms this morning.”

 

         Nikola shrugged. “She slept there.”

 

         Nigel laughed, obnoxiously clinking his pint glass to Nikola’s and alarming the poor man when ale slopped all over the table. “ _Exactly_. How did you do it, you old dog? I bet Johnny Druitt’s spitting nails.”

 

         Nikola looked at Nigel as if he were covered in slime and archly said, “I was not there.”

 

         “Sure, sure, you can tell that to the Dean, but come on, mate, I am not here to think ill of you.” Nigel stopped, realizing Nikola was being genuine, and awkwardly said, “oh”. He buried his face into his pint, considering what to say next.

 

         “Do you like her, old boy?”

 

         Nikola shrugged. “Of course.”

 

         Nigel sighed. “No, I mean…are you interested in her? Do you love her?”

 

         Nikola sat, still unfazed, and considered the question as if it were one of his class assignments. “She is certainly the most engaging woman I have met in England. I admire her, she is of the keenest intellect, and a fascinating mind—“

 

         Nigel felt like banging his head against the table. “No, sod all that. Do you _love_ her, Tesla?”

 

         Nikola blinked, still unsure as to where the conversation was going. “Yes. She is easy to love.”

 

         “Are all you Serbs so matter of fact about everything?” Nikola laughed at that, and Nigel hoped the other man had finally loosened up enough to understand him. “How do men in your country court their women?”

 

         Nikola sipped his wine, tilting his head back and forth as he thought about the question. “Gifts…usually game from a hunt…help with work, ask her parents for their blessings, and then the priest for God’s—“

 

         Nigel let out a low whistle. “Move that fast, do they?”

 

         “It is a hard land and a harsh place to live in. Men do not stay boys for long and women do not stay girls for long. There is not the time to spend on frivolity when there are winters to live through.” Nikola looked bitterly into his glass. “No time to think, to wonder, to dream…” He shook aside the dark ruminations and shrugged again at Nigel. “You may call it simple. The men tell the women that they love them, and the women choose.”

 

         Nigel nodded appreciatively to that, thoughtfully sipping at his ale. “How do you say it in Serbian then?”

 

         “Volim te.”

 

         “Volim te!” Nigel laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I like that. Volim te, Tesla! Volim te!”

 

         Nikola hung his head and sneered at his giggling companion. “I should have learned last time that all you do is bastardize my native tongue. You’re hopeless!”

 

         Nigel rolled himself a cigarette, still laughing at Nikola’s expense. Of all the men at least, Nikola found himself in Griffin’s company most often, though he could not recall how that became so. It seemed, however, that the chemist liked him, and was free in his speech with him like James and John most assuredly were not.

 

         Which all led Nikola to a thought. “Why did you mention Druitt before?”

 

         Nigel looked down guiltily into his glass, as if he had said too much. Nikola began to grow concerned as Nigel stumbled over his words. “It is nothing…nothing serious…it is only, well…Johnny likes Helen too.”

 

         Nikola blinked. “The poet?”

 

         Nigel squirmed. “Women like poets here, they like romance and flowers and sonnets written about how lovely their hair is and all that nonsense.”

 

         Nigel was surprised when Nikola started to laugh. “Helen is not like any common woman. She is a _scientist_.”

 

         “That does not mean she is not a woman!”

 

         “No, but she is far too clever for child’s play like that. The clever ruses of men cannot hoodwink Helen, they must bore her instead.”

 

         Nigel shrugged and looked down into his fast emptying glass. “For your sake, mate, I hope you are right.”

 

         Nikola drained the wine in his glass and snorted at the thought of John courting Helen. “She never touches him, never makes any special considerations for him in her speech, never sits beside him – most times she makes an effort not to look at him!”

 

         Nigel felt an intense wave of guilt wash over him. He felt as if he should try to explain things to Nikola but was not sure how even to begin. He tried gently. “Things are a bit different here, mate—“

 

         Nikola waved him off. “I grew up in a house of women. They are not the mystery men try to make them out to be.”

 

         Nigel slumped his head into his hand, feeling as if a cheerful drink had run away from him and turned to a messier situation instead. “If that is what you think, mate, then you had best tell her. If you’re serious, of course.”

 

         Nikola frowned, confused by the mild rebuke in Nigel’s tone. “Serious? I did not realize emotions had to be quantified by degree.”

 

         Nigel tapped a finger to the side of his nose in a conspiratorial manner. “You don’t want it bad enough yet. Trust me, I am a man who has had his heart broken a few times. I am just warning you, mate, because I fear no one else is looking out for you. You’ll realize it too late, how explosive and overwhelming and brilliant being in love is, and someone else will have taken her away.”

 

         Nikola muttered, confused, “You sound as if you’re reading my death warrant.”

 

         “I’m just saying that one day you will wake up…and you shall never laugh at love over science again.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Picko Jedna (pronounced Pizdo Yedna) is Serbian for "you cunt"


	3. The Poet and the Electrician

 

         The rain fell heavy from the sky, soaking through Helen’s clothing and chilling her to the bone. She held the coat over the dead man’s face, relieved when James rushed back to her side with his kit.

 

         “Look there,” she gestured to a cut running alongside the man’s nose. “I have tried to preserve the integrity of it, but the rain threatens to undo our work.”

 

         “Amazing,” James breathed as he knelt down under the protection of the coat. “A clear emission in the wound…viscous.” He pulled out a clean piece of cloth and gathered up as much of the liquid as he could, then stowed it away into his kit bag. “The rain is going to wash away the rest. There is nothing further we can do now, we might as well wait for Scotland Yard to take over.”

 

         James helped Helen to her feet and passed her a somewhat damp handkerchief so she could wipe the rain from her face. She smiled sweetly at him. “I want to thank you, James…for involving me in your work.”

 

         To her surprise James looked distinctly uncomfortable, shaking the rain from his hat. “You are welcome, Helen…you have proved yourself most capable.”

 

         “Yes, but I know I make an usual choice.”

 

         James placed his bowler back on his head. “John is your champion, not I.” The remark stunned Helen. “You should make your way back inside. I will keep watch until the Inspector arrives.”

 

         Helen was unsure about the sudden dismissal. She was sure she had offended James somehow, but could not fathom why. “I should be just as content to wait with you, James.”

 

         “There is no need to concern yourself with me, Helen. On your way…”

 

         Helen felt wounded then. Her only wish had been to be closer to James. She thought their work together was helping establish a fonder friendship and respect. Helen bade James a curt goodnight and fought to slow her pace so it wouldn’t seem as if she were fleeing.

 

         James was usually very kind to her, and a sparkling conversationalist. He often felt like the older brother she always wanted. But sometimes he fell into dark moods and could be abrupt and unknowingly cruel. She had just wanted to show him how much she appreciated his acceptance…

 

         Growing decidedly annoyed, Helen trooped her way across the grounds without much thought except that she wanted to put as much distance between her and the corpse as possible. The mud churned thick below her and she had to fight to pick her way through. She was so concerned with the monotonous act that her eyes were trained firmly to the ground, and she was surprised by a deafening crack in the sky.

 

         Looking up in the darkness, her heart beating wildly in her chest, Helen struggled to make out the noise she had heard. It sounded earth-splitting…but the rain and darkness obscured her vision. She feared for what she might see, cloaked in the dead of night…

 

         Suddenly, just when she began to think her mind was playing tricks on her, a hot, fierce bolt of lightning crackled through the sky racing towards the ground. When it struck it briefly illuminated a strange apparatus and a slender man in ghostly light.

 

         “Nikola?” Helen fought her way forward towards the apparition.

 

         He was not conscious of her until she was close enough to place a hand on his arm, mildly startling him. “Helen!” He exclaimed, looking at her soaked clothing with concern. “What are you doing out here?” He looked around and picked up his abandoned jacket and held it out to her. She hid a smile, he didn’t even realize his coat was sodden, and she gently declined.

 

         “What is all of this, Nikola?” Helen looked to the strange machine by his feet. It looked like a motor, or some reinforced metal box with a lightning rod attached. He looked excited to show it off to her, kneeling in the mud to show her one of the dials on the side.

 

         “I am measuring the voltages of raw, natural current. I do this at every opportunity whenever there is a storm. I am hoping to find a median in my readings to determine what voltage I should be attempting to replicate, but electricity,” A naked grin spread over Nikola’s face. “She is unpredictable.”

 

         He suddenly noticed Helen shivering and his brow knitted with concern. “But you are cold. Go inside, Helen, you will catch a chill.”

 

         “Oh no,” Helen shook her head firmly, “I would not miss this for the world. When is the next strike?”

 

         Nikola grinned, pleased with her response, and checked his watch. “It varies, but I predict in the next twelve seconds—“ A streak of lightning arced towards them, narrowly missing Helen and Nikola, and raced down the lightning rod. Helen let out a long held breath, though to her credit she did not flinch. Nikola frowned. “Three seconds. Hmph.”

 

         Helen gathered her skirts about her, deciding they were already ruined by the mud, and formed a seat for herself on the ground. Nikola was in his element, positively humming with excitement. She found herself smiling, the less than welcome reception from James bleeding away. “It must be an Eastern trait to be so at one with nature. I admire it.”

 

         Nikola gave her a sideways glance. “You admire the wrong thing. It is not the land, but the man attuned with the elements. And you too.” Nikola held out his hand to Helen’s. “Take off your glove.”

 

         Puzzled, Helen slipped off the black lace, and Nikola grasped her hand firmly. His grip was strong, but gentle and despite the rain his hand was warm. Curious, Helen watched as Nikola slipped her a wink and then with his free hand grasped the top of the lightning rod.

 

         Helen’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?” Nikola gave her hand a comforting squeeze to allay her fears. He waggled his eyebrows mischievously. “Nine seconds till next strike.”

 

         Helen held nervously onto Nikola’s hand, feeling a thrill of danger run through her, and couldn’t tear her eyes away from the hand Nikola was holding the lightning rod with.

 

         The seconds counted down…three…two…one…a flash! A surging bolt of lightning searched hungrily through the air and then struck the rod and the hand enveloping it. Helen stared in shock, half expecting Nikola’s clothes to light on fire. The electricity crackled around the rod and then dissipated just as quickly, gone in a terrifying flash.

 

         Nikola let go of the lightning rod, flexing his fingers. Helen was stunned, “Are you quite all right, Nikola?”

 

         He showed her his hand, an insufferable grin on his face. “Not a scratch.”

 

         “How is this possible?” Helen looked to the dials on the box. “The voltage of that last strike should have killed you!”

 

         Nikola raised an eyebrow, inordinately pleased with himself, and sat down beside her. “Electric current can run through our bodies quite safely. Little shocks only startle, but do not harm us. A storm like this, however…” he looked up admiringly at the pouring heavens, “…you kept me from death.”

 

         He held up their linked hands, untwining his fingers from hers and splaying her fingers open, their palms still touching. “Electricity, lightning can only fly through the air for so long. It is like the inimitable joy and sorrow of watching a dancer leap into the air…you marvel at the grace of seeing a man undo every natural law but you are sad because you know eventually he must touch down to earth again.”

 

         Helen felt her breath hitch in her throat. Another flash of lightning streaked though the air, illuminating their faces for an instant, and she realized his eyes were a stormy gray-blue.

 

         “Electricity is much the same,” he continued, their hands still pressed together. “She descends from the heavens, but searches for a place to harbour in the earth, like this metal rod. Now, our bodies can house this current and guide her safely back to ground. This amount of raw current, however,” he pushed against her hand gently, “I needed you to act as my ground. We just had the same lightning pass through the both of us.”

 

         Helen stared at their hands, wondering at he power that they had housed, however temporarily. She blinked, a concern rising. “But what if I had let your hand go? If I had been frightened and flinched away?”

 

         Nikola shrugged, wiping some of the wet hair from his face. “I would have received an alarming shock.” He smiled at her. “But I trusted you would not show fear. That is not the type of woman you are. We have both stared Zeus’ wrath in the face and laughed.”

 

         Nikola picked up his coat again, placing it about her shoulders explaining that though it may not keep her dry, it would still keep her warm. They sat together, counting the seconds between each strike of lightning and Helen felt something she never did with James, John or Nigel. A complete freedom, a companionship without any sort of reservation or expectation to act as she should. Nikola would happily have her along for any adventure, any experiment, discovery, invention or exploration and her only responsibility be that her mind prove worthy of it.

 

         Like the lightning that sparked and sizzled about them, it was something she felt hopelessly drawn to, but afraid to touch.

 

***

 

         “Remember to only use two ounces,” Nigel cautioned, “measure it out.”

 

         James searched amongst the messy collection of flasks and beakers, and the task so frustrated him he finally said, “Oh bother, you prepare the base. You are a better chemist than I at any rate, and only your mind could understand such a disordered system of inventory.”

 

         Nikola gave a dramatic bow and deftly pulled all the instruments he needed out of the messy pile with ease. Deftly, he began to measure different compounds and set to mix them together, his movements confident and graceful.

 

         Helen looked down the barrel of the microscope when James was done and began drafting a sketch of the cells. “It resembles some sort of protein enzyme…” She withdrew from the microscope. “And it is not human. The cell walls are too large.”

 

         Nigel whistled. “What beastie doth lurk at Oxford?”

 

         The door to the small laboratory opened, and John Druitt strode in slightly out of breath and carrying a paper-wrapped parcel. “It was the devil finding this much tinctured iodine. Why ever did you need so much?”

 

         “I should try explaining it to you if I thought it would make a difference,” Nikola drawled unpleasantly. John stiffened, biting back a nasty retort and set down the package by James.

 

         “The base is ready,” Nigel said and handed the flask to James. James filled a small syringe with the clear liquid and placed two drops onto the sample under the microscope.

 

         “The reaction is almost immediate,” Helen murmured, gazing down the lens. “The cell walls are breaking down, disintegrating. It must be reacting to the alcohol.” Helen drew away from the microscope. “The sample is unusable now.”

 

         James cast a wry look to Nigel. “And you used the appropriate amount?”

 

         Nigel snapped back, “Of course I did. This just means your assumptions of what the sample is are incorrect.”

 

         James tapped a finger thoughtfully to his lips as he thought aloud. “The substance was found inside the wound tract…it must have been transferred there from the weapon used, but to what purpose? A toxin? A sedative?”

 

         Nikola looked skeptical. “A toxin that makes the victim insane? See frightening things that no one else can?”

 

         John, who was leaning against the table and appeared deep in thought, suddenly spoke. “What do you think, Helen?”

 

         Helen looked up, mildly surprised, and then cast her eyes back down to the fresh sample she was preparing. “Perhaps it is a toxin meant to alter a man’s mind…either way I believe it must have something to do with blood. These were open wounds we found the substance in…a point of transmission.”

 

         “Or contamination,” Nigel added.

 

         “Here,” John straightened and strode over to the work counter. He picked up a clean, glass dish and with a scalpel made a shallow cut in his palm. Fat, luminescent drops fell onto the dish. “I may not possess the expertise of my more esteemed colleagues, but I will contribute as best I can.”

 

         Nikola rolled his eyes and quietly muttered to Nigel, “So long as his blood does not taint the sample.”

 

         James added a drop of the sample to John’s blood and placed it onto a glass slide for the microscope. “It is…it is a coagulant.” He looked up at the other four, astonishment naked on his face.

 

         John’s brow furrowed. “And what kind of knife murderer paints his blades in a _coagulant_?”

 

         “It _is_ a creature,” Helen breathed, excitement rising in her voice, “It must be. Only a predator displays that kind of behaviour…it wastes not a drop of their food source.”

 

         James looked mildly ill, and countered, “But we saw no creature—“

 

         “We also didn’t see a knife-wielding madman,” John suddenly snapped. “Open your eyes, James. You operate in a field where you cannot be closed to possibility.”

 

         James looked as if he were ready to strike John. He bit back on such anger that his tongue bled. Nikola and Nigel exchanged a worried glance.

 

         “This coagulant…substance,” Nikola hurriedly began, gesturing to the sample, “Can it also explain the fits? The apparitions these men saw before death?”

 

          Helen was afraid to speak, feeling that every time she voiced her opinion the strange conflict between James and John escalated. However Nikola looked at her expectantly, impatient for her thoughts, and demanding her opinion. “The coagulant could be a natural tool the creature uses to suppress its victims. It might carry some hallucinogen…I-I am uncertain.”

 

         Nikola looked disappointed in her and his mouth set in a firm line. He quietly murmured to her, “Be confident in your convictions and do not waver. You haven’t been wrong yet.” And to her surprise he then flashed angry eyes at James.

 

         “I do not think we can test this sample further, gentlemen,” Helen began. “We have garnered all the information we can to this point, and now we must consult our judgments. I have a missive to write to my father. Hopefully he can lend some insight into this matter.” She curtsied and left them, unable to bear the tension and awkwardness in the room any longer.

 

         Nigel looked to James and John and let out a snort of contempt. “You lot…squabbling and bickering like two old hens. We can get nothing done with that sort of behaviour…and whoever or whatever is still out there, hunting innocent men. Let us not see anymore lives wasted, shall we?”

 

***

 

         Helen saw the rose struck through her door and felt guilty when she blushed. It was such a childish gesture really, so garish in its overuse…but she found the sentiment a touch endearing in its clumsiness.

 

         She plucked the rose from its resting place and gleefully tossed it to the side, a playful spurn of the gift. John had already told her that they played at Shakespeare’s Beatrice and Benedict. She was beautiful, willful and headstrong, but would say the words “I love you” yet. She told him she much preferred Viola, able to navigate both roles, with her qualities shining through no matter her dress.

 

         That seemed to please John even more, and despite herself Helen found being wooed enjoyable. Though she was stubborn, her father’s daughter to the last, and refused to make or accept any promises.

 

         She sat down at her father’s study and banished all whimsical thoughts. It was a pity he wasn’t here now, he was away at a conference in Belgium, for she was sure he would have the answers. She quickly wrote a letter to him, explaining the strange deaths and the new discovery her little study group had made.

 

         “You shall give your professors gray hairs, the five of you,” Gregory had once said. Helen smiled at the recollection, they were frequently referring to themselves as the Five now.

 

         “Please send this by the first available post,” Helen said and handed the letter to the housekeeper. She hoped the journey to Belgium would fly past…she needed her father’s guidance so badly.

 

         Helen looked to the rose abandoned on the steps outside. She thought of Viola, able to take on the play of man, but shaken and vulnerable when the strings of the female heart were pulled. She wondered if on that shipwreck that began her journey, Viola had looked out to the lightning that raged around her and cried out in fear or laughed?

 

***

 

         James sat alone in the abandoned classroom, brooding. He was not even looking at the notes he had scrawled on the blackboard any more, but looking through them.

 

         He did not even notice the presence of another man until Nigel politely cleared his throat. He was carrying a covered platter, and James’ nose twitched at the smell of food.

 

         “I supposed you had not eaten yet,” Nigel said and took a seat beside James. He uncovered the plate to reveal a few small meat pasties and gestured towards them encouragingly.

 

         “You are a king amongst men, Griffin,” James said in thanks, hungrily biting into one. He pointed to the board, frowning. “All the clues are here, I am sure of it. I just need to see the pattern…it is lurking, always just at the corner of my eye, darting out of sight when I get close.”

 

         Nigel looked to the board, crammed with shorthand and on everything they knew about the deaths. “They are all isolated to Oxford…”

 

         “Hmm…yes, though the vendetta seems strange. I cannot find a motive for it.”

 

         Nigel shrugged. “Perhaps it is a matter of access then. Someone who is confined to the school grounds.”

 

         “But a school is such a conspicuous place,” James wrung his hands in the air, “and I can find no record of staff who is physically confined here through infirmity or what have you.” He fell silent and then began to mumble his thoughts aloud. “All male victims, though save Helen there are only men at Oxford. All of different ages and backgrounds, all bodies found somewhere on campus. Doctor Thompson and Doctor Stevens in one day…Whitby a week after…Stuart a week after that…”

 

         James suddenly sighed, hanging his head. “There, there is my pattern. Finally I have grasped her.”

 

         Nigel stroked his face thoughtfully. “If there is a timeline for these deaths then is it premeditated? Some sort of bizarre ritual?”

 

         James shook his head, his voice thick and mournful. “It follows not the precise week of our calendar. There is no designated day for death that a madman would hold significance to. No…this is a feeding cycle. Helen was right all along.”

 

         Nigel looked cautiously over to Jams and in a light tone said, “You have not been very generous about that yet, James.”

 

         James sighed in despair. “I know…I know I have not been.”

 

         “Do you really need to be right every time?”

 

         James folded his hands together and rested his chin atop them. He regarded Nigel carefully before speaking. “I wish it were only a matter of pride I could explain my behaviour with, but it goes beyond that. I _must_ solve this…I must stop what’s happening – I must have the answers.” He looked forlornly at his notes. “I must be better, smarter, keener, sharper – for I have nothing else to prove my worth as a man except for my mind.”

 

         James motioned hopelessly towards Nigel. “You, you can drink, fight, entice women to bed with you, and on top of that you’re a chemist. My father would enjoy your company…” James let out a small grin, “…except for the fact that you’re Scottish.”

 

         Nigel laughed and playfully cuffed James’ shoulder. “You are mistaken, James. You are a gentleman, and I am of a rougher sort. You have many qualities that make you a more acceptable man.”

 

         “Hmm,” James pursed his lips together, “but I cannot make my living or profession outside of what I can do with my mind. I have no skills or abilities in a trade. So, in this,” James tapped a finger to his temple. “I must be superior to all. I must use every advantage at my disposal to sharpen this tool.”

 

         Nigel picked up one of the pasties and bit into it, chewing thoughtfully. “A sharp tool cuts those around you.”

 

         “I know that too…I am still discovering if I can live with that sacrifice.”

 

***

 

         John blinked, unsure if his eyes were deceiving him. He made his way to the back of the lecture hall and hissed at the man already seated, “Confused as to which lecture you are in, Tesla?”

 

         Nikola barely glanced up at him, one leg carelessly thrown over the other. “Not at all. This must be Sonnets and Free Composition if you and all these other slack-jawed idiots are here.”

 

         John gripped Nikola’s shoulder firmly, causing the other man to flinch. “And what makes you grace us with your presence?”

 

         Nikola twisted his shoulder away from John’s grasp, moodily smoothing the lines in his suit. “Because I am interested to know the English man’s view on love and how he expresses it. Call it a cultural education.”

 

         John stared at him in bewilderment, before leaving to find his usual seat. Tesla remained silent throughout the entire lecture, never offering an opinion or taking any notes, but instead listening intently to every word the professor spoke, his true thoughts hidden behind half-closed eyes. To John’s great annoyance, Nikola showed up to every lecture on romantic verse, the silent sphinx lurking in the back.

 

         When Nigel found out Nikola was auditing poetry courses he laughed himself sick at the other man’s expense. “Are you thinking to become a scribe then? Pen a few verses on love?”

 

         Nikola flushed with embarrassment. “ _Of course not_. I just want to find a way to…speak to Helen in a manner that she finds more appropriate. She seems obsessed with that phenomenon.”

 

         Nigel snorted. “If you just wanted to learn how to talk to a woman you could have asked me. I could have taught you a thing or two.”

 

         Nikola blinked, stone-faced. “Yes, but Nigel, you bed women of loose virtue. I do not want to learn how to talk to _them_.”

 

         The look on Nigel’s face was finally too much for Nikola to maintain his impassive composure, and choking with laughter he said, “You have gone puce, ‘old boy’.”

 

***

 

         There was a terrible scream in the hallway and Helen dropped the book she was reading. She and Nikola ran out of his rooms to find another young man, Cartwright, grappling with his face.

 

         Helen rushed over to try and soothe him, and suddenly snapped her hand back. Nikola’s eyes widened with alarm. “You are bleeding.”

 

         Cartwright fell to the floor, gasping and moaning in pain. He looked to Helen, frightened. “Miss Magnus…you felt it too, did you not? You felt it too!”

 

         Helen looked at the cut open on her hand and nodded, stunned. “Yes…I felt something brush against me, the weight of it. I felt it, Nikola. This is no apparition. I felt our beast.”

 

***

 

         “Cartwright is alive. Terrified, but merely injured. It is the best run of luck we have had yet.” James puffed thoughtfully on his pipe, only an occasional smoker. “And Helen is absolutely right, we have proof now.”

 

         Helen quickly pushed aside feeling flattered by the admission. “We must warn the school.”

 

         Nigel laughed half-heartedly. “And tell them what? That there is a hellish creature loose on the ground, but we don’t know what it is and no man can see it?”

 

         “We have to catch it,” James said, his resolve firm. “And kill it.”

 

         John was disapproving. “Catch it, surely, but kill it? The poor creature must have no knowledge of us either, especially as this is the first we’ve heard of these strange events. The killings may not be malicious…or intentional.”

 

         James was perplexed with his attitude. “It has taken the lives of four men.”

 

         “We do not understand it well enough to condemn it yet, James,” John replied. James puffed on his pipe, and then shrugged, unwilling to fuel a further argument.

 

         “Either way, the school is not safe right now,” Helen said. “We should all endeavor to keep our distance until we can learn more.”

 

         Nikola frowned. “I live there.”

 

         “Then you shall have to stay somewhere else.”

 

         “Where? A hotel? The streets?” Nikola spread his arms wide in disbelief.

 

         John had a look on his face that immediately said there as no point in asking him to offer his home. James looked similarly uncomfortable and trained his gaze to the floor. Nigel shrugged, “You could stay with me, mate.”

 

         Nikola looked ready to have a fit. “ _Your_ lodgings…have _rats_.”

 

         “And whores,” James murmured quietly, suppressing a guilty chuckle when Nigel glared at him.

 

         “If you must oust me from my rooms, then surely you can host me?” Nikola looked pleadingly to Helen, gesturing with his head to Nigel and despairingly mouthing, “rats”.

 

         John stiffened, his hackles rising. “You cannot ask that of Helen, Nikola – her father is away at present.”

 

         “So?” Nikola looked confused. “They still have guest quarters, I am not asking for Doctor Magnus’ bed.”

 

         James held out a hand to John’s chest, stepping in to intervene. “It is Gregory’s house and right now Helen occupies it alone. If Gregory were here it would be another matter entirely, but without his presence it is inappropriate.”

 

         Nikola looked at them as if they had all grown two heads. “I am not suggesting I stay in _her_ rooms! Are the men so beastly in England that you fear so much for the women?” He looked about them incredulously, and then stood up to put on his jacket. “The matter is settled, I will stay at the school and you can all bicker and consult your conduct manuals.”

 

         Helen, incredibly embarrassed by the discussion that had suddenly sprung up around her, cried out. “But Nikola! You will be at great risk—“

 

         He had already stormed out of the room without so much as a “good night”. John was still seething and James baffled by the incredible display. Helen fidgeted with her hands, feeling guilty for again being the subject of contention.

 

          “My rooms do _not_ have rats.” Nigel spat suddenly in irritation.

 

***

 

         Helen kept her hood up and tried to hide her hair and face as much as possible. Hopefully the large, formless cloak would not bring attention to the fact that she was a woman. She made her way quickly across the school grounds and to the wing with student quarters.

 

         Navigating her way through the dark, she made her way to Nikola’s room (third from the end) and gently rapped on his door.

 

         It immediately swung open, Nikola’s eyes darting fearfully through the darkness and a metal pipe in his hand. When he realized it was Helen he flushed and rubbed at his chest. “Forgive me, the talk of beasts and unseen creatures…it is hard to rid oneself of such thoughts.”

 

         Helen held a hand to her face to try and hide a smile. “We are all protected by our Nikola…wielding a staff in the dark.”

 

         He ushered her inside and quickly shut the door behind him, tossing the metal pipe onto his bed. He frowned at her. “Is this not what all of you call ‘inappropriate’?”

 

         Helen lowered her hood. “Yes…but I was worried about you, and felt somewhat responsible. I wanted to make sure you were well and safe. I could not bear to have you injured on my conscience.”

 

         Nikola plucked at his shirt. “I am fine. No monster has disturbed me.” He looked at her coyly and in too casual a tone remarked, “Were you perhaps feeling in want of my company?”

 

         Helen swatted him with her glove. “Beast. I shall need to look no further for it than in you, Mr. Tesla.” She settled into the free chair he kept and puzzled at what she found on his bookshelves. “And when did you purchase a collection by Cowper?”

 

         “Since auditing some of the poetry lectures.”

 

         Helen looked at him aghast and then couldn’t help the laugh that burst forth. “Why on earth are you interested in those?”

 

         Nikola shrugged, toying with the spine of the book. “Because I am interested in learning more of what English women like to hear and respond to.”

 

         Helen, still trying not to giggle, knitted her brow in puzzlement. “But why? Are you interested in an English woman?”

 

         Nikola raised an eyebrow at her, “In you? Certainly.”

 

         Helen laughed even harder into her hand, fanning her face, which was growing hot. “You are a scoundrel, Nikola. How ever did I manage before you?”

 

         He smirked, dramatically flipping through the collection of verse. “Is it working? Shall I recite from the text? Tell me your favourite.”

 

         “I have none, do not trouble yourself.”

 

         “Good,” Nikola said, snapping the book shut with a smirk. “I find the man a complete bore. No wonder romance is dead in England.”

 

         “Oh,” Helen playfully frowned at him. “What a great pity if that is the impression you have garnered from us.”

 

         “Serbian men dance for their women.” Helen laughed even harder as he spoke without a trace of irony in his voice.

 

         “Nikola, you are teasing me.” She arched her eyebrow at him mockingly. “Unless of course you wish to show me this Serbian love dance?”

 

         Nikola immediately recoiled, fiddling with his cuffs and shaking his hands in protest. “I am a man of science, science is what I love and how I love. Science does not need me to dance for her.”

 

         Helen smirked at him. “And does science want you to recite Cowper to her?”

 

         Nikola shrugged, a diffident fall to his shoulders. “You tell me.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Monster in the Dark

         Nigel whistled as he made his way to the toilets, hands shoved into his pockets. The air was getting nippier as winter grew fiercer, and he breathed a sigh of relief that the pipes for the boilers ran through the privy room.

 

         “Miss Magnus, a letter for you,” The housekeeper uttered and Helen eagerly took the envelope and tore the seal. It was in her father’s handwriting and had come not a moment too soon. She found a small note inside and a pamphlet. _On how to warde away evile sprites and faeries: VOL. VI easterne regions Belerusse to Rumania._

“Afternoon, Griffin.”

 

         Nigel nodded amiably to the men that passed by. “Afternoon, lads.” He strode into the privies, bracing himself for the smell and trying to scout out a water closet that wasn’t too filthy.

 

         “Oh, hullo,” he muttered under his breath as he saw a puddle of water on the ground. Grimacing, he tried to sidestep the spill as much as he could, when he realized the water was still leaking slowly out of one of the basins. Intrigued, he cautiously stepped closer.

 

         Helen looked at the small scrap of paper that accompanied the pamphlet. _Dearest Helen, I am most disturbed by the news you bring of the unfortunate incidents at school. I cannot disclose my insights on paper, and hope to accompany this letter as soon as the trains allow. In the meantime consult the literature I have sent. Remain vigilant, be ever watchful, and stay safe. Your loving Father._

 

         Helen’s hands trembled slightly as she placed the letter down. If even her father sounded alarmed, then they were in more trouble than she anticipated.

 

         Nigel inched closer and leaned forward to look down the drain. The water spilled forward onto the floor in inconsistent drips. He marveled at the strange sight when the water began moving. Alarmed, he took a step back, and the water sprayed forth from the basin, narrowly missing his clothes.

 

         “Bloody hell!” Nigel looked down at the puddle formed and saw little splashes running through…headed towards him.

 

         Helen opened the pamphlet eagerly, her eyes scanning over the entries. It read like a mock manual, rather more a fairy story to read to one’s children, but her father had scribbled in his own notes in the margins, sometimes scratching out erroneous sentences.

 

         For her, he had circled the small entry on “Darke Wights”, with an accompanying illustration of a small, many-armed creature. Helen’s eyes widened at the scratchy, darkly shaded sketch and read on.

 

         “The Darke Wight found common to the farmlands of easterne regions is the size of a house cat. Prefering darke and warmthe the wight normally hides amongst livestock and keepes her nest in chicken coops and amongst cattle to brood her young.” Here Gregory had scratched out “young” and added “eggs”.

 

         “The darke wight can choose not to be seen by wandring eye (Gregory had added “natural camouflage”) and attacks her unsuspecting victims to feede upon bloode. She is cunning and agile. Offrings of bloode by one’s thresholde keep the wight’s malice at bay.”

 

         Here Gregory had added his own thoughts, “Warmth and moist, dampness. Vulnerable to exposure. Broods are large, _normal clutch of eggs contains four to five score young_.”

 

         Nigel stepped away from the small splashes in the puddle until his back collided with the wall. He swallowed nervously as the splashes suddenly stopped just a few feet in front of him. The ripples in the puddle briefly described a circumference of about two feet and then stilled.

 

         Where was it? Was it still there? Nigel’s heart pounded in his ears.

 

         The ripples began again and something slithered through the water towards him. Its pace quickened and Nigel wondered if he could make it to the door in time. Frozen and unable to think, Nigel kicked out at the base of the ripples just as it reached the toe of his shoe.

 

         To his shock he felt his foot connect with something and swore he heard a shriek. There was a wet splat against the wall opposite to him and then a flurry of splashes towards the privy basin that disappeared down into it.

 

         Nigel wheezed, bending over and rubbing his chest, adrenaline surging through him.

 

***

 

         “I’m just grateful I didn’t piss myself,” Nigel said after recounting his near miss in the bathrooms.

 

         Nikola wrinkled his nose, eyeing Nigel’s sodden trouser legs. “Are you sure?”

 

         “So they navigate the school by means of the plumbing.” James clutched the pamphlet in his hand excitedly, unable to mask his admiration. “Ingenious.”

 

         “I believe we may be dealing with two, a breeding male and female,” Helen began, “My father’s placed an emphasis on their procreation and birthing habits.”

 

         John looked repulsed. “So we may be dealing with a _hundred_ wight eggs. How long until they hatch?”

 

         Helen shook her head gravely. “I don’t know…but if they need heat and moisture I suspect they will have made their nest in the boiler room.”

 

         James handed the manual back to Helen. “There is not a moment to waste then. Oxford will be overrun if we do not put a stop to this now. I am going to fetch some supplies, I suggest we all reconvene back here in an hour.”

 

         “How are we to ensure the mother and father will be with their nest?” John asked.

 

         Nigel slipped a wink to Nikola. “Not to worry, chaps. Tesla and I have an idea.”

 

***

 

         Helen looked at the strange contraption made of glass and metal, shaking her head in wonder. “I feel as if I am peering into the future.”

 

         Nikola couldn’t resist a pleased grin at that. Helen looked to him and Nigel. “How does it work?”

 

         Nigel took the apparatus from her and gently set it onto Nikola’s table. It had two sealed glass cylinders connected by a funnel and linked to small metal discs by wiring. Nigel opened the seals of the cylinders and began to fill them with chemicals. “This first chamber will contain pure ethyl alcohol. This second an alkaline base I’ve mixed up. They need to be housed in two separate chambers because once they come into contact…” Nigel waggled his eyebrows up and down. “…well, let’s just say it’d burn off your skin.”

 

         Helen nodded enthusiastically. “And we saw from our sample that the creature’s vulnerable to alcohol.”

 

         Nigel finished topping off the second glass cylinder and replaced the seal. They stood side by side, one clear and the other yellow. “And it will certainly find this objectionable.”

 

         Nikola was busy braiding the bare wires together. “These metal discs will act as a conductor for a remote charge. Once triggered, the glass barrier here,” he pointed to the thin glass wall of the funnel, “will shatter. The two liquids will then be free to combine. This gives us more control.”

 

         “What are you using to activate it?” Helen asked.

 

         Nikola finished twining the wires and then stepped away from the machine. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and brought out a small, flat gray square. “A magnet. There is a compartment for it by the wires. Once placed the circuit is completed.”

 

         “And then our beastie says goodnight.” Nigel chuckled, wiping his hands clean. “If we can set this off at the main bypass of the school’s plumbing it will flush our monsters back down to the boiler room. May even kill them along the way.”

 

         Helen worried at her bottom lip. “I wish there were a way to spare them…”

 

         Nigel and Nikola shared a scandalized glance, unwilling to let go of their chance to test out their new gadget. Helen rolled her eyes and muttered, “boys”, under her breath.

 

***

 

         “Alright, I’ve got it!” John put away his small knife, jiggling the doorknob he had just picked. James handed him back the lantern, bringing out his pistol. Helen exchanged nervous glances with them and then nodded as they made their way into the boiler room.

 

         “When are Nigel and Tesla joining us?” James whispered.

 

         “They’re setting off the charge on the second floor laundry room now. They should be here shortly,” Helen answered.

 

         “Hush…” John murmured, scanning the dark room with the faint cast from the lantern. “There!” he whispered, pointing towards one large, copper boiler.

 

         “Dear god.” James stepped forward, pistol at the ready, and his eyes widened at the sight of a mucus web that stretched from the side of the boiler to the wall. Slimy, black orbs hung suspended in the web.

 

         “The eggs!” Helen eagerly stepped forward, her hand reaching out to touch the web. John twitched as if he were about to stop her, but she had already made contact with the foreign substance. His voice was stressed with worry. “Is that wise? Is that harmful?”

 

         Helen was oblivious to all around her, pulling one of the eggs from out of the web. She ran her fingertips over its rubbery surface. “John, bring the light closer.” She held up the black egg to the light and saw a small form inside. A smile spread across her face. “It’s amazing.”

 

         “Here,” James held out an open handkerchief which Helen deposited the egg into. Neatly folding it up, James tucked it into his coat pocket.

 

         There was the sudden sound of shrieking and metallic clanging. The pipes in the boiler room vibrated. They exchanged nervous looks and Helen muttered, “The charge has gone off.”

 

         James cocked his pistol. “Mummy and daddy are coming home.”

 

         They heard the sound of footsteps and Nigel and Nikola soon appeared by the doorway. John gestured for them to all stay a few feet away from the nest. Nigel’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at the sight. “Blimey, that is like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

 

         Nikola chattered excitedly to Helen. “It worked beautifully. Just as we had planned.”

 

         The clanging of pipes and shrieking began to grow louder, circling above their heads. James looked carefully to the network of shuddering pipes and then pointed one out. “There, that one!” Their eyes followed down the length of the pipe to see it opened to a drain near the boiler.

 

         The shrieking grew deafeningly louder, the pipe rattled violently, and there was a sudden gush of water that spilled from the pipe’s opening. “Steady on!” Nigel cried out.

 

         There were two great splashes and the sound of something hissing. Helen gasped when they saw two blackened figures tumble out of the pipe. Nikola immediately covered his nose with his hand, gagging. The stench was overwhelming.

 

         “Are they dead?” John asked.

 

         The crumpled, many-armed wight suddenly began twitching, trying to heave itself off the ground. Alarmed, James fired his pistol at the creature and it flew back across the floor. Nikola drawled, “It is now.”

 

         The pipes in the boiler room began to rumble ominously again. John looked up worriedly. “Don’t tell me there are more…”

 

         James gently prodded the blackened mass with his toe. “Shouldn’t be…there are two distinct bodies here.” The pipes rumbled again and his eyes suddenly snapped up to Nigel’s face. “Griffin, what sort of chemical is this?”

 

         Nigel shrugged. “Merely an alkaline base…with a kick.”

 

         James looked ready to throttle him. “And how does your brew react to methane?” Nigel’s face fell and irritably James pointed to a tank at the other end of the room. “The buildup of methane gas from the septic tank and privies? What will your compound do?”

 

         Nigel quietly breathed, “Boom.”

 

         John grabbed Helen’s hand and they all sprinted out of the room, Nigel narrowly avoiding skidding through the puddle on the floor. The metal pipes groaned and the Five ran without a glance behind. When they had made it halfway across the courtyard there was a deafening explosion from behind them.

 

         They were far away enough that the force of the impact didn’t affect them. All staggered to a stop and flanked back to see brackish water coating the hallways. There were several more shrieks of metal shearing, causing Nigel to wince, and then nothing. Nikola gagged again and complained, “Will I never be free of the stench of sewage?”

 

         John, still holding firmly onto Helen’s hand, helped her to her feet. “Are you all right?” His face was tender with concern.

 

         Nigel gulped when housekeepers and students began spilling into the hallway to see what the commotion was about. He looked to James. “Do you think they’ll know who did it?” James said nothing but cuffed him up the back of the head.

 

         A man stepped out of a carriage nearby and made his way over to them. Nigel glanced nervously at the figure, afraid it was the Dean, when it removed its hat and Helen ran over exclaiming, “Father!”

 

         Gregory swept Helen up into a fond embrace and kissed her on the cheek. He looked to the sodden, filthy group and then to the commotion inside the school. Wryly, he said, “Pity. I’ve missed all the fun.”

 

***

 

         “Ah, and here is the egg.” Gregory delicately took the egg from James and placed it into a glass box. “Such a marvelous, beautiful thing.”

 

         They were all seated in Gregory’s parlous after being given towels to dry off with and cups of tea to warm themselves. Gregory seemed to find their endeavours wholly amusing, confessing to Nigel that he had blown up one of the Oxford toilets as well back in his school days.

 

         “You knew of this creature already then, Doctor. Where is it from?” James was eager to probe Gregory’s mind, an unabashed admirer of his work.

 

         Gregory squeezed Helen’s hand fondly before finding a seat for himself. “The wight is native to Russia, but over the past two years it has cropped up in the more rural areas of England. This is the first I have ever heard of one being found in a city.”

 

         “How long have you known about them, father?” Helen looked expectantly at him; her emotions conflicted. She felt as if he had kept something from her and the deception, though mild, seemed unfair and hurtful. He looked at her guiltily, understanding her mood.

 

         “Helen, there is something I must tell you, something important. I have been waiting for the right time, and it was meant to be for your ears only.” He looked to the four men gathered and couldn’t help a small grin. “But your friends have conducted themselves admirably tonight. What I have to say in part concerns itself with the wight. If it pleases you, they may stay, but if not then I shall beg you fine gentlemen to excuse us for a moment.”

 

         “Of course, doctor,” John answered for them.

 

         Helen looked earnestly into her father’s face, searching for any clues, and said, “We have all seen strange things…and faced danger together. I will not rob them of an explanation. Speak, Father, speak freely.”

 

         Gregory nodded, patting her hand. He held up the glass box with the mysterious egg inside. “I must tell you now that my work recently has deviated from conventional medical trade. It is a rather secretive, but ancient business. We call these strange creatures abnormals…”

 

***

 

         Helen lingered by the doorstep, blushing gently as John’s thumb swept over the back of her hand before he released it. The moon hung soft and silver in the sky, casting them in her bewitching glow.

 

         “You showed an amazing amount of bravery tonight that I have not seen in the spines of ten men.” John’s eyes sparkled with genuine affection and a small thrill ran though Helen when she noticed how he shyly shuffled his feet. “I did not think my admiration could grow further for you, but I find it ever tempered with respect. You are an amazing woman, Helen…I do not think I shall ever meet the likes of you again.”

 

         “You are easy with your flattery, John,” Helen said, trying to calm the rapid heartbeat in her chest.

 

         He smirked. “I am not. Otherwise I would speak only of your beauty, which any man could fill libraries upon. But no, if you forgive my boldness, your character outshines even that. I find myself humbled by it.”

 

         He leaned in closer, slowly, giving her time to back away and when she did not he placed a feather light kiss by the corner of her mouth. “I will forever work to deserve a place there,” he whispered and then took a step back. Bowing to her, he drew his coat more firmly around himself and made his way into the streets.

 

         Helen brushed trembling fingers against the spot she had been kissed before returning back into the house.

 

         When John arrived at the Five Lords he made his way over to the fireside table, already occupied by the other three men. James poured him a brandy, only momentarily pausing the discussion.

 

         “I think that we should accept Gregory’s offer to work with him,” James continued. “We are all here at Oxford to expand our knowledge of the physical world. And tonight we have discovered a facet of it untouched by any textbook or literature offered to the common academic.”

 

         Nikola sipped evenly at his wine, for once his glib humour at bay. “I agree. What Gregory is offering goes beyond any achievement or education we can receive in school. I will never turn down an invitation to intellectual discovery.”

 

         Nigel drained his glass of ale, a small frown on his lips. “These are uncharted waters we want to sail into. I do not think any man yet truly knows the scope of this…even Gregory. Does that not worry anyone else?”

 

         James looked at him incredulously and simply said, “No.”

 

         Nikola smirked. “I never thought you would be the responsible one, Nigel.”

 

         Nigel glared at him. “I’m all for innovation as well. But I’m saying that we should temper our ambitions with caution. The outcome of anything we do from here is unpredictable…it is something no man can know. Icarus flew and reached the sun, but he only grasped it for a moment before plummeting to his death.”

 

         John clapped his hands slowly together in an ironic round of applause. “That was beautifully articulated, Nigel, but I thought poetry had no place in science.”

 

         “It does not,” Nikola sharply said.

 

         Nigel considered John for a moment, a thought formulating in his mind. “My worry is in our haste for discovery we overstep our bounds and lose sight of ourselves. But you, Druitt…you can be our human gauge. Maybe we do need a poet, a philosopher, to make sure humanity is always kept in our work. Reason tempered with sentiment.”

 

         Nikola looked sick and as if Nigel had betrayed him, but wisely kept his thoughts to himself. He saw immediately how James and John warmed to the idea, and knew his opinion was in the minority.

 

         “Has Gregory spoken further of the different beings? Are there any more in England?” John asked James, who had monopolized Gregory’s ear for his questions.

 

         “Oh good,” Nikola muttered. “We can become pest and vermin control.”

 

         “Apparently there are more than we could ever imagine,” James said. “But Gregory is interested in applying the scientific method to mythic beings. He’s given me one of his journals with his study of the biology and blood work of fantastic beasts…diagrams of anatomy, skeletal structures, notes on blood cells—“

 

         John laughed. “You would dissect everything, James.”

 

         James shrugged a touch bashfully. “Be that as it may, we are learning now of creatures, and humans too, who have remarkable gifts. Living amongst us, unseen. And Gregory’s work is proving that these go beyond children’s stories, there is a biological explanation for all of it.” He looked at the other men sombrely, though unable to mask all the excitement in his voice. “The key is in blood. What wonders, what miracles, what dark secrets does blood contain?”

 

         All the men gathered held in their breaths, the heady drunk feeling of realms unexplored proving overwhelming. Nigel finally let out a small snort. “Perhaps a sign that says, ‘Here Be Monsters’.”

 

***

 

         Nikola was in a troubled state of mind as he read over the letter from his sister. Milka was asking about England and if he meant to stay at Oxford once his schooling was over. _Come for Christmas_ , she wrote, _so that we may see you are well and your face hasn’t grown too thin_.

 

         Nikola disliked Smiljan, he found the land harsh and boring and filled with uninspiring people but there is always a part of a man’s soul that remembers his home and yearns to see his birthplace. A part of him wanted to return with trains that had his company name printed on the side, newspapers declaring his latest inventions, and carrying gifts to his sisters, not of game or firewood, but of heat and light encased in glass - Prometheus returning home.

 

         Only now his fantastical musings began to betray him and he wished for Helen’s hand on his arm, her breath crystallizing in the cold as they stepped across the snow. It disturbed him enough that he wistfully thought of fleeing back to Smiljan, perhaps set up shop in Austria…but the thought grew more abhorrent the longer he lingered upon it.

 

         Damn Nigel for being right. Damn Druitt for being his rival in this game.

 

         And damn him for being a novice in something that came easily to most ordinary men.

 

         He tucked the letter away into the small leather case he kept most of his important documents (immigrant papers, letters of reference, a few key designs), then seated himself at his desk. He selected a few tools and busied himself with a delicate glass instrument he’d been tinkering with in his spare time. He was beginning to form a purpose for it in his mind, but wondered if he would be brave enough to follow through with his wishes.

 

***

 

         “Vampires!”

 

         Gregory gave her a warm smile. “Yes, darling, they are real. Or were, rather. They were the most dangerous race of abnormals to ever walk the earth. Civilizations’ greatest advances flourished under the rule of Sanguine Vampirus…the Ancient Egyptians, pre-Christian Rome—“

 

         Helen’s eyes widened. “But how could we have never known? Are there any vampires still in existence?”

 

         Gregory pulled a few battered journals from his shelves, opening them to marked pages. “No, there are no more vampires in existence today, and thank heavens for that. They were he most dangerous of monsters, highly intelligent, incredibly strong, and ruthless in their ambitions for power.” His fingers skimmed over an illustration of a woman with eyes black as midnight, frightening black talons, and the trademark pointed teeth.

 

         “They were kings, queens…and immortal. We lived as slaves under their heel, but during the Crusades they were wiped out. Eliminated completely…” Gregory then slipped her a wink. “…or so they say.”

 

         Helen’s eyes scanned hungrily over the secretive texts and she glanced up at her father. “But how could there still be traces of vampires if they’ve all been killed? Unless…they bred with humans?”

 

         Gregory folded his arms across his chest, his eyes sparkling with pride. “Have you ever delved thoroughly into the history of the Borgia Family? The Medici? Almost all of the Renaissance princes—“

 

         “—were vampires!”

 

         Gregory shrugged. “No, they were human, but with vampiric traces in their lineage. Same with the Romanov House, the Hohenstaufens, the Hapsburgs…I suspect some gifts and traits must have passed down the line if not vampiric physiology itself. The wealth and strength of the mixed vampire families must have also afforded their descendants’ success. But yes, I believe we live with that history even today.”

 

         Helen tapped a finger thoughtfully to her lip. “Is there a way to determine if someone has that blood in their veins?”

 

         Gregory chuckled. ‘You are ever searching for a further use of your microscope. No one has attempted it, and as I said I do not believe you would be able to discover this from a descendant. They are human after all.”

 

         “Well, father, we will just have to find a sample of vampiric blood then.”

 

         He looked at her stunned. “Wayward child, as wild as the wind…you’ve the stomach of a man, not a lady.”

 

         Helen smiled. “No, I just have your heart, father.”

 

         She could tell he was swelling with pride for her, but he grasped her shoulder with concern. “And an adventurer’s soul. I can’t protect you forever, Helen, but I hope that you have been raised with the mettle and courage to keep yourself safe. I would not find you harmed on account of my work.”

 

         She lifted her chin a touch proudly, feeling challenged. “And when it becomes _my_ work, father?”

 

         He smiled at her then. “Then the world had best watch out for Helen Magnus.”

 

***

 

         “The properties of untainted vampire blood would be astounding…” James’ fingers twitched in the air as his excitement grew. “…perhaps one could be revived even!”

 

         John pulled a face. “Revive one? Why ever would you want to bring one of those creatures back to life?”

 

         “For once, I agree with the poet.” The admission pained Nikola. “If the stories I was told as a child hold any kernel of truth, then we would be unleashing a horror unto England we would not be able to contain.”

 

         Helen took back her father’s journal from James, whom she was sure would pocket it if she weren’t diligent with its care. “I’m afraid resurrection may be out of our reach, James. I do not think the blood’s properties would have that effect anyway. I think we need to view it as one would a disease.”

 

         Nigel nodded appreciatively. “Diseases can be transferred through blood…and we could see the vampire ‘gifts’ as if they were virulent symptoms.”

 

         “But they would mutate,” James interrupted. “One’s contraction of a virus creates a new strain of the illness, our physiologies would all react differently.”

 

         “Our speculations will only end once we possess a sample for ourselves.” Helen brought out an atlas. “Vampire myths are prevalent all throughout Europe, but they are most persistent in the Teutonic regions. I’ve been perusing old family genealogies attempting to find a link and it is clear we will not find it in England.”

 

         The Five grew silent, all quietly savouring the excitement of a new adventure. Only John Druitt seemed cautious. “This is a most disturbing enterprise. We delve into a dark realm and are at risk of bringing darkness to ourselves,” he intoned in a low voice.

 

         Nikola looked at him pointedly. “I’m sure the first savages were afraid of fire too.” Nigel jabbed him warningly in the ribs.

 

         “Nigel and I will begin designing experiments and finding control samples we can evaluate our results against. In the meantime, Helen, we humbly await your findings.” James bowed to her and began to gather his coat. Casually, he brought up as an afterthought, “On a more frivolous note…has anyone offered to escort you to the Yule party?”

 

         Helen blushed furiously, missing the dark look John shot James, and shook her head dismissively. “It is not something I have concerned myself with, James, there are far more interesting matters to attend to.”

 

         James gave a forced laugh, his face the picture of innocence. “Oh come now, no dashing admirer has propositioned you yet?”

 

         John rose immediately to his feet and grasped James by the arm. “We are bothering Helen, let us away.” He strode out of the room, James stumbling to catch up with him and they disappeared quickly down the hall.

 

         Helen laughed airily at their departure, though her face was closed, and she said, “Grown men so concerned with a silly dance. They’re like a pack of maiden aunts…” She looked at Nigel and Nikola apologetically, holding her books to her chest. “Gentlemen.”

 

         Nikola was confused by the matter and called out to her as she was making her way to leave. “What are you all talking about?”

 

         Nigel hissed at him hurriedly, “Yule – Christmas. The party they’re holding at the school for everyone is this weekend.”

 

         Nikola frowned, still unable to understand. “A function for students?” He nodded towards Helen. “So you will be attending.”

 

         Helen grit her teeth, looking uncomfortably to the floor. “I am not technically a student, Nikola. I would have to come as someone’s guest if I were so inclined.”

 

         “Come with me then,” he offered, then slipped her a smirk. “If you’re so inclined.”

 

         Helen found herself unable to resist falling into a cheeky smirk herself. “You would have to dance.” Her mirth broadened at the grimace on his face.

 

         Nigel looked at him critically. “And wear a better suit.”

 

         Nikola glared at him, smoothing out his waistcoat. “You must, then, I shall not be able to bear the tedium on my own.”

 

         Helen laughed, turning to the door. “To not further disappoint your views on England, then. I look forward to it.” She left with a small wave.

 

         Nikola turned to Nigel, an obnoxious grin on his face and said, “So I will be attending with a beautiful woman…and you’ll be coming with a tramp you paid a shilling for.”

 

         Nigel blinked slowly once and calmly uttered, “I will poison your wine.”

 

***

 

         James looked to his silent friend and carefully remarked, “You’re cross with me.”

 

         John’s hands were balled into fists as he stared resolutely ahead of him. “We shall be at your rooms soon.” He looked as if he was concerned with no other matter than crossing the bridge over the Thames and seeing James home.

 

         But James could see that John’s mouth was set in a thin line, how his gait had stiffened, and his posture was ever so perfect. “Why have you not asked Helen to accompany you?”

 

         “Do not concern yourself with it, James.”

 

         James tried to laugh to ease the tension. “Now really, John, it is only an innocent question—“

 

         John stopped and turned to face him, livid. “No, it is _not_.”

 

         They stood halfway across the bridge against the rail as carriages rattled by. James felt his chest constrict as John glared daggers at him. “You vacillate between jealousy and shamed apologies. Your innocent questions are instigations – _tests_ to gauge my loyalty and friendship to you. I do not ask Helen to spare you.”

 

         James felt as if he had been slapped in the face, and found he could say nothing as John forced himself to calm down. A pained expression passed John’s face. “What would you have me do? _James_. I am at a loss, I do not know how to please you anymore. Your speech masks your true desires and everyway I turn I still hurt you somehow.”

 

         John’s hand settled on James’ shoulder, a comfortable familiar weight, and his voice rose barely above a whisper. “Forget Oxford, forget polite society, forget your father – just this moment it is only the two of us. Speak to me…freely and truly.”

 

         James shivered, the chill breeze from the Thames cutting through his coat. He found himself at a loss of what to say, his mouth was dry as bone, and he looked at John uncomfortably. Finally, he muttered, “You are my best friend, John. That is all. You must forgive my behaviour…it was untoward.”

 

         John shook his head, his eyes still pleading. “ _Speak_.”

 

         James shrugged away from his hand and murmured, “I have nothing more to say.” They walked in silence for the rest of the journey and John left him at his door without stepping inside.

 

         Furious with himself, James thought to practice his violin in his solitude. He played faster and more recklessly, lost in his own tormented thoughts, and didn’t notice his face was bleeding until a drop of his blood splattered against his shoe. He looked at the broken strings of his violin and threw it down, hearing it shatter. He left the splintered pieces on the floor and vowed never to touch the instrument again.


	5. Written in Bone

 

         “I think I have found it!” Helen flung her arms around Gregory’s neck, like she used to do as a girl, and kissed him on the cheek. He laughed, kissing her back and held up the manuscript.

 

         “Hidden amongst the crypts of royalty…who knows what else those dusty bones are hiding?”

 

         Helen’s grin faltered for a moment. “We do not know if it is actually there, father. We only have an inference from an old diary…”

 

         Gregory took her hands in his. “It is still a chance to explore Vienna, a real adventure. But do not worry about that tonight,” Gregory framed her face with his hands and smiled a touch sadly. “You shall always be my little girl…sometimes I forget that you have become a woman. It is all right to put down your work for a night. Go, get ready for your party.”

 

         Helen smiled and kissed him on the cheek a touch bashfully. She did not want to admit it, but she had not been able to push the thought of the party out of her mind. It was silly and embarrassing, but she had internally fretted over how to pin up her hair, what dress to put on…

 

         “So,” Gregory said as he poured himself some scotch, “when is that Druitt lad coming to pick you up?”

 

         Helen felt her face flush and fiddled with her hair. “Actually, I happen to be expecting Nikola.”

 

         Gregory lifted an eyebrow. “Tesla? Bit skinny.”

 

         Helen fanned herself and rolled her eyes at him. “He is doing me a kindness so I am not excluded from the festivities. It is nothing more.”

 

         Gregory leant back in his chair, an indulgent smile on his face. “I do not know the chap personally, but he does not seem the sort of man who does something he does not want to. Is your friend the type to take liberties with or humour someone?”

 

         Helen paused, unsure of herself. “No…he is not.” Gregory gave her a knowing look as she left the room to get ready.

 

***

 

         “Put down the razor!”

 

         Nigel waved the blade threateningly in Nikola’s face. “Come on, lad. No English girl is going to kiss you with that caterpillar on your face.”

 

         Nikola seethed. “I am _not_ shaving!”

 

         “You’re hopeless.” Nigel set down his razor and eyed Nikola critically, gesturing to the sloppy neck-tie. Nikola grudgingly began to fix the knot as Nigel reached into his bag and brought forth a wrapped, brown paper parcel. Carefully he took off the wrapping to reveal a small bouquet of roses. “These are bloody hard to find in winter.”

 

         Nikola smirked. “For me? You devil.”

 

         Nigel glared at him. “Give them to Helen. You cannot show up at her door empty-handed. Trust me, she will like them.”

 

         Nikola picked up the bouquet, gingerly bringing the rose heads to his nose and sneezing at the sudden mist of perfume. He eyed them skeptically, but realized Nigel was trying to help him. He was loathe to admit it, but he was touched by the thought. “Are you sure she won’t find them silly?”

 

         Nigel folded his arms across his chest, a generous smile on his face. “Oh, undoubtedly. But every woman likes to have a chance to be silly.”

 

         Nikola looked at the bold, almost daring red hue of the flowers and suddenly felt naked. These flowers were a loud, garish declaration of his feelings and intentions. He was not sure if he wanted to shout out the contents of his heart. Nigel saw that he was struggling and clapped a friendly hand to his shoulder. “You’ll do fine, old boy. Now, do not keep her waiting. I shall see you at the dance.”

 

         Nikola fumbled with the roses awkwardly as Nigel left his rooms. He opened the drawer to his desk and brought out a small box. It was the glass instrument he had been working on for the past few weeks. Debating silently with himself, he finally slipped the box into his pocket and left the roses on his desk, the perfume still lingering on his fingers as he made his way out onto the snowy streets.

 

         “Miss Magnus, you have a caller.”

 

         Helen nervously tucked a fly-away strand of hair behind her ear as she made her way to the door. Excitement simmering inside of her, she quickly crossed the entrance hall and opened the door. Nikola immediately took off his hat when she appeared, fat white flakes falling onto his dark head. He was wearing a fur-lined coat and had groomed himself as best he could, every hair slicked carefully back into place.

 

         She grinned, taking a shawl and wrapping it around her shoulders. “You look very handsome, Nikola. I hope you have not been waiting for long.”

 

         “Not to worry, I am accustomed to the cold.” He replaced his hat atop his head and offered her his arm. He felt a small thrill as he escorted her to the waiting carriage, the snow like his flighty dreams of Smiljan.

 

         The carriage rattled down the snowy, slicked roads and Helen drew the shawl more tightly around herself. She laughed when Nikola grumbled under his breath, “Drafty…you cheap bastard, Griffin.”

 

         “Is this your first function in England, Nikola?”

 

         He snorted. “Unless you count the circus the immigration office is.”

 

         Helen laughed. “Are you returning to your family home at all for the season?”

 

         Nikola’s face darkened slightly and he simply shook his head. “I would rather see the ‘delights’ an English winter has to offer. The company is much better.”

 

         Helen flushed slightly, looking out the window of the carriage. “I must admit I found myself looking forward to this party…thank you for taking me.” She gave him a cheeky smile. “And you will be certain to show me this fabled Serbian Love Dance, of course?”

 

         She laughed gaily at the horrified look on his face. “Surely, as my escort you are obliged to dance at least once with me?”

 

         “I would dance with you three, six, nine times – but I have not had the opportunity to learn yet. I think you would find me an ungainly partner.” He pouted slightly. “And I would not want to look anything but dignified in your presence.”

 

         “Oh, yes – heaven _forbid_ you play the role of the clown.”

 

         Nikola hesitated a moment, then reached into the breast pocket of his suit. He brought out a small wooden box and opened the lid, bringing forth a small pendant on a thin chain. “The delayed time device Nigel and I invented for the wight had me thinking about manipulating open and closed circuits. It lead me to this.”

 

         He held up the small charm of the pendant, a small glass triangle with a delicate wire filament wire inside. The end vertex of the triangle was placed inside a copper base. Nikola gently held the edges and twisted the charm to the right, causing the triangle to suddenly glow with light.

 

         “Oh my goodness,” Helen breathed, her eyes widening. Nikola pressed the pendant into her hands and she lifted it to her face to better see how it was glowing. She twisted it experimentally to the left and the light died. “This is amazing – how does it work?”

 

         Nikola’s fingertip gently skimmed over the surface of the glass. “When turned to the right the ends of the filament come into contact with the conductor, which is in half of this base. This completes the circuit, generating heat and the filament burns and gives off light.” He smiled, basking in her praise. “If the filament burns out, just give it back to me and I will replace it. May you always have a little illumination.”

 

         “It is beautiful, Nikola.” She smiled at him shyly, unused to the gentler and more generous side of his character. “I did not realize it was for me.”

 

         He looked mildly stunned. “Of course it is. Think of it as an early Christmas gift.” He gave her a wink. “If we are to be hunting monsters now, you will need a torch you can easily carry.”

 

         Helen twisted the glass triangle so that it lit up again. She turned so that her side was presented to Nikola and held up the pendant. “If you would do the honours?”

 

         He looked flummoxed. “Is it not easier for you to place it on yourself?”

 

         Helen rolled her eyes at him and huffed. “If you are to present a gift of jewelry it is customary to dress it unto your recipient.” She saw that would hold no water with him and sighed playfully. “Oh, embrace a little romance, Nikola. Do it because I would like you to?”

 

         With trembling fingers he fumbled the clasp open and draped the chain around her neck. His fingers skimmed the soft skin of the nape of her neck and he hurriedly closed the snap, as if he were afraid by touching her she would disintegrate.

 

         Helen felt a small thrill at the feather touch of his hand and when she turned to face him again her smile was demure. Here was their dark-haired, foreign mystery…brining with him the secrets and brilliance of snow-shadowed lands. He was a beacon of adventure, new realms undiscovered, danger…Helen was beginning to feel it not be such a bad thing to take that plunge into the thrilling unknown.

 

         “It may sound silly…but you have not commented once on my appearance tonight. Am I so unremarkable?” Her tone was flirty and teasing.

 

         Nikola gently scoffed at her, leaning back and throwing one leg over the other. “You look beautiful and you know you are beautiful. You do not need someone else’s opinion to make it so. It is simply fact. I do not need to bore you with reaffirmations of the obvious.”

 

         Helen smirked at him. “You have a very prickly sense of flattery, Nikola…but it is still flattering.” She leaned in closer to him, voice innocent. “Perhaps I would like for you to continue with your observances of the obvious?”

 

         Nikola felt his breath catch in his throat, but the sly grin on his face did not falter. “Hmmm…you are intelligent, and unworthy of the men who would surround you. I think you are the most interesting person in this otherwise stuffy country, and a night in your company I would not trade for anywhere else in the world.”

 

         Helen could see the familiar outline of the Oxford building out of the corner of her eye and knew this wonderful (if yes, a touch drafty) carriage ride was soon coming to an end. She leant forward, heart beating a little faster, and pressed her lips to his.

 

         Their mouths met for only a fleeting second, before she could only feel the whisper of a tickle from his moustache, when it was rudely ripped apart. Nikola had gone rigid, nervously smoothing back his hair and affecting a cough. His face had gone red. Helen was slightly taken aback, his sudden diffidence and painful shyness unexpected, and tried to hide her embarrassment.

 

         “Pardon…p-pardon me,” he stammered, fastidiously smoothing his coat. Helen didn’t know what to say to skip over the awkwardness, and instead worried at her bottom lip.

 

         “We have arrived.” Nikola opened the carriage door for her and helped her to the ground. He still tucked her arm into his and whisked them boldly through the snow and biting winds, but Helen could not ignore the deep shyness just lurking beyond his bravado and confidence. It felt like a secret she was not meant to find out.

 

         “Over here!” Helen saw Nigel and a pretty blonde girl waving to them. His cheeks were burnished red from the cold and he clapped a hearty hand to Nikola’s shoulder, winking.

 

         “You look absolutely gorgeous, Helen.” Nigel coaxed his companion forward. “This is my little cousin Amelia. She’s come up to visit London for a week.” The pretty girl curtseyed, greeting them shyly, and Nigel gestured towards the doors. “Come on, it’s bloody freezing.”

 

         Helen held onto Nikola’s arm as they entered Oxford’s music hall, slightly taken aback in awe at the vast crowds of people. Nikola seemed mildly perturbed by the mass of bodies and she felt him squeeze her arm tighter unconsciously as his discomfort grew.

 

         “Druitt! Come meet my cousin, she is studying verse as well.” Helen watched as Nigel cheerfully navigated his way through the throng of people, and finally saw John and James. John had his hair wistfully swept back with ribbon, his tall demeanor maintaining a stately dignity amongst the controlled chaos. His eyes met hers and she felt a flutter in the back of her throat. He smiled at her, before bowing to Amelia Griffin and exchanging pleasantries.

 

         They made their way over and found James already with his nose in a tumbler full of brandy. He smiled stiffly at Helen. “You look lovely.” James held up a glass of wine to Nikola with a secretive grin. “Since you disapprove of English vintages I found one from Italy. Happy Christmas.”

 

         Nikola looked mildly stunned. “Happy Christmas indeed.” He passed the glass to Helen so she could taste it.

 

         “Helen. I am very glad you are here.” John delicately held her hand, bowing, and she felt simultaneously tickled and uncomfortable of the number of eyes on her.

 

         There was a sudden clanging of a bell and the clamour in the hall died down. Nigel paled and ducked behind a crowd of people. “Bugger, the dean.”

 

         “Gentlemen, and most esteemed ladies, we are blessed you are able to join us in our humble festivities. Without further ado, I wish you all a Happy Christmas and look forward to seeing you again next term. A waltz!” On cue, the string ensemble struck up a merry tune to the applause of the guests.

 

         Helen looked to Nikola and lightly teased, “Surely you will dance the first with me?”

 

         “It will take me a hundred years of learning before I can dance properly with you.”

 

         She smirked. “A man of your talents? Only fifty, surely.”

 

         John held out his hand to her. “If Tesla is forgoing the privilege, than may I?”

 

         Helen looked briefly to Nikola, unsure. A dark cloud passed over his face, but he acted as if he had not heard or in the slightest bit cared and waved her go. She smiled at him apologetically and grasped John’s hand, feeling slightly giddy as he whisked her away to the group of dancing couples.

 

         Nigel sidled up to Nikola and muttered in his ear, “You would let him take Helen away that easily?”

 

         Nikola had his arms folded moodily across his chest and scoffed lightly. “If all it takes is one dance then the game of love is not worth a thing. Helen is not one to be herded…she will go to whom she pleases.”

 

***

 

         “That is a rather fetching necklace you have on. Something from your father?”

 

         Helen looked down to the glass charm, still lightly glowing, and gently flushed, her free hand nervously playing with the charm. “No, it is an invention of Nikola’s. It is an electric torch.”

 

         John lifted a dark eyebrow, leading her into a graceful turn, and he remarked drily, “The future around your neck…our foreign skeptic has a touch of the poetic in him after all.”

 

         Helen sensed the barb lying at the bed of those words and lightly asked, “Why should you dislike him? His manners may be different, but he is new to England after all.”

 

         John led her gracefully around a formation of other dancers, the ease of which he moved belying his strength. He frowned slightly as he thought of a diplomatic response. “A man’s character can only be coloured so much by his upbringing. I do not believe that to be a permanent bond. In Tesla I see a man obsessed with his work to the point where all others are shut out. There is only one person of true consequence to him, and that is himself. It makes him abrupt, arrogant and tactless.”

 

         Helen was quieted by the unsettling truth in that observation and lowered her eyes from John’s. “Surely a man cannot be as selfish as you say.”

 

         John gripped her waist a touch more firmly, bending his head forward to try and catch her eye again. “I do not mean to insult anyone. I merely wonder what Nikola would do if something made him choose between love or science?” He leant in and quietly murmured in into her ear, “I am no scientist, so perhaps you find me tedious…but I am your most apt pupil.”

 

         Helen felt her cheeks grow warm and was surprised when John sent her into a bold twirl, once again picking up the growing energy of the music. He laughed and said, “Besides, you do not want a scientist!”

 

         She returned his cheeky grin. “And what then do I require?”

 

         He pulled her up closer to him, a charming boyish grin on his face. “Someone who respects you for all of your qualities and talents, including those that have nothing to do with your work. Someone who is proud and supportive of your accomplishments, but also enjoys just Helen.”

 

         Helen pursed her lips, surprising John with her response. “You mean someone I can be a woman around?”

 

         His eyebrows rose in surprise, but his dismay was replaced with a pleased grin. “If I may be so bold, yes. Oxford and the medical community may require of you the qualities of a man to succeed…but are you not Viola, hidden in her dress? Is Viola not a woman at heart with her sweetness, compassion, patience and loyalty? Why should you reject those? These tender qualities do not weaken you but make you ever more perfect.”

 

         “Perfect?” Helen was caught off-guard by the admission, but before she could dwell on the praise the waltz had ended. John kissed her hand, bowed to her and let go of her hand. He walked with her back to the table James was seated at. James’ eyes followed their path from the dance floor.

 

         “Come on, old boy – give her another dance.” James’ eyes were rimmed red and he looked as if he had neglected sleep for a long time. Helen could only guess at the hint of desperation in his eyes, but John’s hackles rose.

 

         “I cannot keep Helen all to myself,” he evenly replied.

 

         James scoffed, a trembling hand waving in the air. His tone was forceful. “Oh stop being such a bore, John. Come; let us see you both side by side, entwined in a lover’s grasp. Surely, you can play the part?”

 

         “ _Enough_ , James.”

 

         James raised a dark eyebrow, his gaze smoldering. “I only wish your happiness.” He then rose abruptly from the table, swaying slightly, and turned smartly on his heel and left.

 

         John seethed silently, turning an embarrassed look to Helen and giving her an apologetic smile that never reached his eyes. “It seems our friends have abandoned us for the night’s festivities. I hope I have not kept you from their company.”

 

         Helen was perturbed by the previous exchange and shook her head. “I do not understand this quarrel between the both of you, but feel as if I am somehow responsible.”

 

         “Do not trouble yourself with it, Helen. It is none of your doing,” John said, placing a tender finger under her chin so she would look up at him.

 

         “I think…I think I should like to go home.”

 

         John looked disappointed, but he was loathe to impose any further on her patience. “Would you like me to fetch Nikola?”

 

         “No, leave him be. This is his first social night in England; let him enjoy himself. Would you be so kind as to escort me to a carriage in his stead?”

 

         John bowed to her and took her arm. They made their way discreetly outside and Helen shivered from the chill, winter air.

 

         “I was wondering, Helen, if I may be so bold, to request your company a fortnight from now?”

 

         That surprised a laugh from her. “A fortnight! I am sure to see you before then, what requires so much forethought on your part?”

 

         John gave her another one of his small, secretive smiles and he reached into the pocket of his coat. He brought forth a playbill and presented it to her. “The opening performance of _Twelfth Night_ …I could not conceive of a soul I would desire more to accompany me.”

 

Helen felt her heart skip a beat as she looked at the playbill, and then to John. He still held his cool, untroubled demeanor, but she could see the nervous expectation in his eyes. She grinned, then lowered her eyes coyly, afraid to expose too much of her own desires. “A fortnight is a while away…you must allow me to consult my schedule first. _If_ I haven no other pressing matters to attend that night…”

 

         John laughed and pressed a hand to his chest. “Oh, cruel woman! You would make a poor man wait forever on an answer.”

 

         John hailed a carriage towards them and opened the door for her. She began to climb up the steps then turned to face him, now able to meet him eye to eye.

 

         “Are you willing to wait for me?”

 

         John leant forward and surprised her with a gentle kiss. “I would wait for as long as you wished…even to eternity.”

 

         Helen felt her knees go weak and sat down gratefully inside the carriage, thankful for the shadows that concealed the sudden flush on her face. She watched John’s bowing figure grow smaller in the snow as the carriage took her home.

 

***

 

         “Miss Magnus, I am so sorry to disturb you…”

 

         Helen stirred awake, momentarily confused, and saw that the housekeeper was gently shaking her. She knew she would not have been woken unless it was urgent and sprang to attention.

 

         “What is the matter? Is it one of father’s patients?”

 

         The housekeeper looked very apologetic. “No, miss, it is a young man at the door who seems very much in distress. He asked specifically to see you and refused to leave until he had.”

 

         Helen groaned and laughed tiredly. “Oh dear, that must be Nikola wondering why I left without so much as a goodbye. I am dreadfully sorry, I will attend to this.”

 

         “I have not let him inside the house yet, miss. He…he does not seem in a proper state.”

 

         Helen rolled her eyes as she fetched a housecoat to cover herself. “Yes, that sounds like him.”

 

         She made her way quickly to the entrance hall, glancing up at the clock. It was already well past midnight. She would have to have a firm word with the cheeky Serb on which customs one must attend to, proprietary rebellion be damned.

 

         It was in this state of mind that Helen was duly surprised when she opened the door. “James?”

 

         He stumbled forward, gripping her doorframe for support. “Please…help me…”

 

         “Goodness!” Helen nearly toppled backwards as he stumbled forward. Gripping his arms firmly and regaining her balance, she helped him to one of the chairs in the sitting room.

 

         He was slick with sweat and trembling uncontrollably. She looked at him alarmed. “James, what has happened?”

 

         He fumbled with the scarf around his neck, his breathing laboured. “It seems I have taken one of my experiments too far…”  
 His movements suddenly stopped and he slumped back in the chair unconscious.

 

         Alarmed, Helen shook him to no avail. She pressed two fingers to his neck, sensing his erratic pulse. Silently begging his forgiveness she slapped him soundly and he jolted awake again. She could tell he would not remain lucid for very long and grasped his face. “What was your experiment? What have you taken, James?”

 

         He seemed to grasp where he was and his face darkened with shame. “I swear…I swear I meant no ill. I was only trying to forget…”

 

         “Forget what, James?”

 

         He desperately grasped her hand, his eyes pleading. “You are the better doctor…you must be the teacher now. Be gentle with his heart…as I could not…” He closed his eyes and shivered. “Forgive me…Helen…”

 

***

 

         Luckily, Gregory Magnus came home moments after James’ distressing arrival. With the help of the housekeeper they dunked James into an ice bath and stripped him of his ruined clothing. Once redressed in dry robes and placed into a bed, Gregory found James’ snuffbox, nearly empty.

 

         “Dark matters our boy has been toying with,” Gregory said whilst preparing an injection. “This will help regulate his heart beat, but I am afraid the only cure is time and a measure of will on his part.”

 

         “What is the matter with him, father? He was saying things I did not understand.”

 

         Gregory looked to her and gently shook his head. “He is a sick man, Helen, pay you no mind the words of the ill. He is not himself right now.”

 

***

 

         James sniffed delicately and glared at Nigel. “Thank you, old boy, but I have not expired yet. There is no need to make my sick room a funereal service.”

 

         Nikola winced, his fingers plugged into his ears, and roared. “That means put the trumpet down, Griffin!”

 

         Nigel laughed, tossing the brass horn to the side of the bed and perched himself on the end. “I just thought a bit of music would cheer you up.”

 

         James rubbed his temples ruefully. “Clearly.”

 

         John sat in the chair beside James’ bed and passed him a cup of tea. James’ face fell when he saw the concoction and John looked at him sternly. “Doctor’s orders.”

 

         “There is only so much willow and yarrow tea one can stomach.”

 

         Helen placed another pillow behind his head and gently chided. “It is helping cleanse your body of all toxins. You have been doing much better.”

 

         James plugged his nose with pinched fingers and swallowed the cup as quickly as he could without tasting it. He had been ordered to stay in bed another night at Gregory’s insistence, and John had come by with his books for something to do. The worst of the sweats and spasms were over, but Gregory warned him he would still experience cravings. Something man, not medicine, would have to triumph.

 

         Nikola saw his glass charm pendant still around Helen’s neck, and when she caught him looking he winked. “It suits you,” he drawled, dodging her swatting hand.

 

         “Here is the diary father managed to procure, from the archivist of the Hapsburg family.” Helen brought forth the old, leather-bound book and sheets of her own translations. “He speaks of a family house in Vienna that would perform rituals none of the servants were allowed to attend that was intended to honour their ancestor Rudolf the Debonair. I believe they were a family descended from vampires. The diaries also mentions some of Rudolf’s relics…”

 

         James looked over her notes with piqued interest. “You believe they may have a preserved corpse?”

 

         “Or some sort of artifact…and because blood is so intrinsic to the vampire mythology I think this may be the best place to look for a sample.” She flipped open the diary to a relevant page. “Here, this is a passage in which he mentions they travel to the family crypt at night to perform ‘dark ceremonies’.”

 

         Nikola read over her shoulder and frowned slightly. “That actually translates to ‘hall of the dead’.” When everyone looked askance at him he shrugged. “What? I am fluent in German.”

 

         “That does come to my next point.” Helen looked carefully at them all. “On who should be the one to go. James, you are in no fit condition to travel and we need someone to continue designing the experiments and tests we are to perform on the blood.”

 

         James looked to Nigel and said, “Though it pains me to say it, old boy, I will need you to assist me.”

 

         Helen looked slightly disappointed. “I was hoping you could join the expedition, Nigel. You are very…’resourceful’ and your talents could have helped us gain entry into the crypt.”

 

         Nigel looked pleased with himself until John muttered dryly, “She means that you are a good thief.”

 

         Nikola huffed and raised an annoyed finger. “Excuse me, but can any of you converse in German? Or Austrian? How do you hope to even navigate Vienna without my assistance? I am fluent in Serbian, Croatian, German, Austrian, Russian and most of the Slavic tongues. You need me.”

 

         Helen was taken aback, the thought never having even crossed her mind. “You are right. You will be needed as a guide.” She passed the diaries to Nikola and addressed the group. “This is an expedition that will be aided by speed. I believe our best chance is to be discreet and fleet of foot. Any more than two and we might be slowed down.”

 

         John paled and asked firmly, “Are you sure it wise to go alone with Tesla? How will you be protected?” He ignored the dirty look Nikola shot his way.

 

         Nigel shrugged. “I can teach you how to use a gun.”

 

         Nikola frowned. “I dislike weaponry.”

 

         Nigel pointed to Helen. “I meant her.”

 

         Helen tried to hide a grin and shook her head at them. She gave John a reassuring smile. “I believe we will manage quite fine, John.”

 

         “Yes, your concern is touching,” Nikola said pointedly, unable to hide the smirk from his face.

 

         “We have our control samples in place. Nigel and I just need to experiment with what bases are most appropriate to use in manipulating the blood from an original vampire source.” James passed Helen the rest of her notes. He and Nigel exchanged a confident look. “I expect we will be ready when you return.”

 

         Helen smiled. “Excellent. I shall have the train tickets ready by tonight. We shall embark tomorrow.”

 

         Nigel got to his feet and made his way over to Helen. He took her arm and walked with her out of the room, saying, “In which case I have got a thing or two to teach you before you head out. Namely, how to pick a lock.”

 

         Nikola looked over to John, affecting a dismissive shrug. He found it difficult to contain his glee at the other man’s displeasure. “I shall bring you back a souvenir.”

 

***

 

         Nikola bundled his coat nervously about him, slipping on a pair of fur-lined gloves. Nigel passed him a satchel full of supplies, and then gave him a stern look. “Do you honestly know anything about firing a gun?”

 

         Nikola rolled his eyes at him, moodily slinging the satchel over his side. “Of course I do, I grew up on a farm. We have wolves in the winter.”

 

         “Alright, then take this.” Nigel passed him a revolver and a small box of bullets. “Just in case.” Nikola accepted it wordlessly in thanks and stowed it away into the satchel.

 

         “Well, old chap…enjoy Vienna. Bring me back some good drink.”

 

         “Only the best,” Nikola said with a smirk. He looked to the carriage that would take him to the train station, then back to Nigel. Warring with himself, he finally reached into his coat pocket and brought out a sealed envelope. “I want you to give this to Helen’s housekeeper…for when we return to England.”

 

         Nigel took the envelope curiously. “Not now?”

 

         Nikola squirmed uncomfortably. “No, no…it is for when she is alone. It is…my thoughts…” He looked down to his feet and Nigel grasped his shoulder knowingly.

 

         “Not to worry, I shall see to it. Now, be off.” Nigel pushed Nikola towards the carriage encouragingly, stowing the envelope into his pocket and waving cheerily.

 

***

 

         Nikola watched as trees waved by in a melancholy fashion as the train roared through the countryside. Helen had fallen asleep on his shoulder, and his arm was tucked gently around her. He was afraid to move, lest he break the perfect still moment, despite his usual discomfort of being touched.

 

         The train ride had fatigued her and she had fallen asleep while poring over her notes. She was still, and soft in sleep, the peaceful countenance of her face belying the razor sharp mind behind it. Nikola mused on this…no one who saw her now would ever know of her brilliance. Such secrets were unlocked with the sparkling wit behind her eyes, or the clever words she used to cut down those who would dismiss her.

 

         Yet here, as she lay, benign and silent with eyes closed, Nikola was still just as captivated as if they were conversing. It was silly, and he decided he disliked being prey to such emotions. But he noted that she still wore the necklace he gave her, and that filled him with such ticklish hope that he was beginning to tolerate this love business more and more.

 

         “Is it night?” Helen stirred, rubbing her eyes tiredly and pushing gently off of him.

 

         He passed her some food and sternly said, “Eat. You have not had a thing since this morning.” Absently she took the bread and cheese and chewed slowly as she looked out the window. It was not quite night yet, but the sun was beginning to sink, stretching out rose-coloured fingers to cover the darkening sky.

 

         “Oh dear, I did not realize I had fallen asleep on you. You are too patient with me.” Helen covered her mouth as she let slip a small yawn. She looked curiously out the window to the spires of he approaching city. “It looks as if we will be arriving soon.”

 

         “I think our best course of action is to take a carriage around the city. We will be able to view the mausoleum and its surroundings, and also any safe places in the city to escape to afterward.” Nikola looked to her with a gentle smirk. “Though what we tell the driver I have no idea. Two adventuring scholars looking to rob the royal family of Austria?”

 

         Helen lifted an eyebrow at him mockingly. “Well we certainly could not pose as a man and his wife, you would go positively red with embarrassment.” Nikola realized this was a dig of their previous carriage ride together to the Yule party and squirmed uncomfortably. Helen immediately regretted the jibe; it had come off harsher than she intended.

 

         “I am sorry…I spoke out of turn—“

 

         Nikola shook his head, waving his hand dismissively at her, forgoing any apology. She noticed that he continued to stare out the window and sighed, fretting. “I was too bold, too forward that night and I scared you. I am afraid…I was caught up with the festive atmosphere of the night and got carried away.”

 

         He looked almost pained as he laughed. “Helen, no, there is no need for apologies. I am afraid it is yet again my condition…I am unused to and dislike prolonged physical contact. It has nothing to do with you.”

 

         Helen looked at him curiously, playing with the pendant. She chose her next words carefully, probing for a response. “Surely you cannot live your entire life in seclusion and distant in human company? Friend only to electricity?”

 

         Nikola chuckled, fiddling with the ends of his moustache. “Electricity is a much better companion than most of the idiots that populate the world. She is an adventure in herself. What more could a man want?”

 

         “Indeed.” Helen grew silent and similarly stared out the window to watch as Vienna came near.

 

***

 

         “If the proprietor knows English and wishes to speak to you, do _not_ tell him I am Serbian,” Nikola muttered to her as they approached the inn. They had found one nearby the Hapsburg property that was out of the way, close to the road and had many carriages for hire rolling past in case they needed to make a hasty retreat. They decided it would be prudent to rent a room as a base of operations.

 

         Helen was taken aback by Nikola’s warning and hissed back, “Why ever not?”

 

         He looked at her, mildly stunned by her ignorance and darkly whispered, “We will not be treated well if we are to be given a room at all. It will draw too much attention to us.”

 

         Helen stopped in her tracks and asked aghast, “Are you not welcome in this country?”

 

         He snorted and shrugged, “As a serf, perhaps. Blood is blood, and memories of war and dominance do not die with the generation. Do not question it right now – we have not the time.”

 

         Inside Helen felt distinctly uncomfortable as all eyes were drawn to her and her unusual dress; she automatically looked like a tourist. Some looked with interest, others with suspicion. She could do nothing but pretend not to notice the interest buzzing in the tavern around the woman from elsewhere as Nikola haggled with the innkeeper for a room.

 

         Finally he passed the proprietor some bills and received a key in return. Helen gratefully took his arm as they trooped up the stairs to their room.

 

         “You acquired one room? What did you tell the man?”

 

         Nikola smirked, “That you are my English cousin and we are stopping over on our way to Bavaria.” He gave her a pointed, mirthful look. “No one would believe we were married, besides, it would cause a scandal.”

 

         Closing the door to the room, they both began to unpack their bags and prepare the instruments they would need for their trip. Helen had brought along a coat with many pockets to hide the lock-picks Nigel gave her, the journal and her notes, a candle, matches and other bits and parts to aid them. Nikola loaded the revolver with bullets and carefully placed it into his pocket, exchanging a dark look with Helen.

 

         “I did not see any watchman or guard by the crypt, but there were many decorations and wreaths. Most of them looked home made…feathers, string, clay beads—”

 

         “Probably the people of that district paying their respects. The name of Hapsburg alone is enough to scare people into deference, though a watchman may come for the night. There may also be booby traps on the inside. We will still have to remain vigilant.” He was done preparing and placed his gloves on again. He looked to Helen, placing his hat smartly on his head. “Are you ready?”

 

         He watched as she tucked a knife into her boot, making his eyebrows jump upwards, and she grinned. “As I shall ever be.”

 

***

 

         “ _Quickly_ ,” Nikola hissed, peering over the side of the obelisk and gently pushing Helen towards the entrance of the crypt. The swinging beam of the watchman’s torch arced dangerously close to them, and Nikola ducked behind the stone monument, heart hammering in his chest. When he saw the beam travel further away from him, he darted over to where Helen was anxiously beckoning him over.

 

         “Look at these _runes_!” She muttered excitedly as she reached into her coat for the lock-picking kit. Nikola looked at the characters carved into the stone door and frowned in concentration. “These do not look like any language I have ever heard of…even of the Asiatic regions…”

 

         Helen pursed her lips in concentration as she carefully teased the blade in the lock, trying to distinguish which way the tumblers fell. Nikola was so absorbed with trying to ascertain the strange letters that he did not even notice when the padlock clicked open, and Helen had to tug on his arm.

 

         “The guard is coming back this way, hurry.” They pushed on the door, much heavier than expected, and quickly slipped inside before the preying lantern light could reach them.

 

         Inside it was pitch black, and Helen fumbled a moment before her necklace glowed, illuminating their faces. “Do you see anything that could make a torch?”

 

         Nikola looked about and found a heavy stick. He wrapped his scarf around the end and Helen doused it with a small bottle of alcohol from her pocket. Once lit it burst into life, spitting out angry sparks until the flames settled. Nikola held the torch aloft and they looked more clearly at their surroundings.

 

         “There is nothing here…it is all just solid rock.” Helen was confused, surveying the blank walls housing them. They examined the walls, trying to find a seam or some indication of a hidden door but found none.

 

         “Look there.” Nikola pointed to the ceiling. “An inscription.”

 

         “What does it say?”

 

         Nikola raised the torch, squinting as he tried to make out the carved words. “What is written in bone cannot be undone in flesh. What is sealed in blood cannot be taken by death.”

 

         “Dark matters, indeed…” Helen whispered, clutching the charm of her pendant.

 

         Nikola looked unhappily about them. “I hate poems. Perhaps we have chosen the wrong crypt. Or perhaps the diaries are wrong.”

 

         Helen looked about them, frowning. “That is a possibility…but why build a crypt if there are no bodies? This must be the right place – this must be one of the safeguards to ensure only family members could pass through.”

 

         She walked over to the wall opposite the entrance door, her fingers running over the stone. A spray of dust came off with her hand and she saw another rune carved into the rock. “Nikola, here.”

 

         He stepped forward, eyebrows raised. “Here is our doorway…but where is our key?” His brow furrowed in thought, and then he handed the torch to Helen. “Give me your knife.”

 

         “Why?” She asked, reaching down to tug it free from her boot.

 

         Nikola took the blade, removing it from its leather sheath. “We are hunting vampires…let us do as they would.” Holding out his hand he pressed the point of the knife to his thumb and swiped it forward quickly. Helen winced at the sight of him bleeding, and he gently wiped the blood onto the rune.

 

         They heard a sudden grating of stone against stone, the walls rumbling slightly and exchanged an excited look. The wall slid back and then to the side revealing a staircase that led underground. Nikola sucked the shallow wound on his thumb and shrugged. “After you.” He discreetly checked to make sure the revolver was still in his pocket, fear streaking through the thrill of adventure.

 

         Descending the staircase they were led further and further underground until the warren suddenly opened into a massive chamber dripping with banners, tapestries and statues. Helen grasped Nikola’s hand unconsciously as they were greeted with the sight of Rudolf the Debonair’s true resting place. She looked to him excitedly. “It is here. The diary was right!”

 

         Similarly buzzing with excitement, Nikola led her further into the room, pointing to the largest tapestry hung above a gilded coffin. “Look at the figure shown above Rudolf…it has fangs.” They looked at each other, wild with their success. All of a sudden Nikola went rigid with fear and he backed away from the coffin. “What if he is still alive?”

 

         “Impossible…my father told me all vampires were exterminated during the Holy wars…” Helen took no comfort in what she was saying, similarly spooked though loathe to admit it. “Bring out your gun.” Nikola did so, pulling back on the hammer and pointing it to the coffin.

 

         Helen nervously stepped towards the coffin again, hand gripping tightly onto the torch. She looked back to Nikola and he gave her an encouraging nod, leveling the revolver square with the coffin. “What dark secrets do you hold, my friend?” She whispered as she found the seam of the lid. Taking a deep breath, she pried the coffin open.

 

         Nikola was trembling so badly he was afraid he would fire the gun by accident and his heart stopped when the lid swung open…only to reveal a skull, a book, and a ring. He exhaled shakily, gratefully lowering the gun and sinking to his knees, trying to catch his breath. Helen couldn’t help but giggle a little, even though she had been just as scared. “Look at us, Nikola. Jumping at our own shadows.”

 

She picked up the ring with interest, noting the seal on it. “It looks just like the rune on the door.”

 

         Nikola, finally having regained face, walked over and pointed to a stone pedestal beyond the coffin. “Or the rune right there.” They made their way over to the unassuming stone plinth, and Helen looked up at Nikola. “We have come this far…surely there could be no harm?” She placed the seal of the ring onto the rune, the raised gilding slotting in perfectly, and they heard more stone grating on stone.

 

         Nikola turned to look behind them where a hidden panel in the wall had slid open. He looked amazed, and then repulsed. “It is a bowl of blood…and it is not even sealed.”

 

         Helen’s eyes widened and she grasped his arm. “There it is, my friend. Original source blood. We’ve done it, Nikola, we’ve done it!” Her grin was beatific and he found it contagious. She tugged on his sleeve. “Come, let us meet our discovery.”

 

         Nikola brought a handkerchief to his nose, muttering, “So long as we are not contaminated by it.” Helen gently lifted the bowl, blowing dust away from the edges. There was a small pool of blood inside, some dried on the walls of the bowl, much diminished over time. She frowned, “There is not much…”

 

         “Are you sure it is the genuine article?” Nikola asked as she brought forth an empty vial and began to collect the blood into it. Helen shrugged, wiping the escaping smears of blood from the neck of the vial before sealing it. “I am unsure…collect the book from his coffin, perhaps it hold some answers.”

 

         Nikola made his way back to the coffin, lip still curled in disgust of the exposed, seemingly dirty, blood when the entire chamber rumbled. Quickly he took the book inside the coffin, stowing it into his pocket as he looked up at the ceiling. “What was that?”

 

         “Oh my…” Helen looked to the bottom of the bowl and the surface it had been resting upon. There was revealed a small pressure plate, and a metallic notch at the bottom base of the bowl. Nikola’s eyes nearly popped out in excitement. “A remote detonation…how have they done that? Where is the mechanism hidden? How—“ There was another ominous rumble and the chamber shook so much some statues fell over and they nearly lost their footing.

 

         Helen grabbed Nikola’s arm and the torch. “We have to go _now_.” She had to drag him out of the chamber as he protested, “Just give me a moment to determine what metal it is!” Chunks of rock began to fall from the ceiling and Helen yelled, “ _Run_!”

 

         They pelted up the stairs, Nikola once nearly tripping, as the chamber collapsed behind them. Helen felt her heart hammering in her chest, the glowing glass bulb bumping against her as they escaped to the very first chamber. Met suddenly by a solid rock wall, Nikola almost tripped into Helen, sending them both tumbling to the ground. He hurriedly kicked the fallen torch away from her skirts, and panting, looked to the destroyed chamber beyond them. “We just buried the Hapsburg Hall of the Dead…we just destroyed a royal resting place…”

 

         To her great surprise Nikola began to laugh, harder and more freely than she had ever seen from him. He wiped a stray tear from his eye, brushing dust from his suit and struggling to his feet. She then noticed a cut coming from his hairline and pushed him back down to a sitting position. “You are wounded, you must have been struck by some of the debris.”

 

         “The blood is intact?” Helen nodded, taking his handkerchief and mopping the blood from his brow. With expert ease and gentleness she inspected the wound. “I will have to clean it back at the inn, but it does not look serious.”

 

         She noticed he was looking at her intently, and withdrew her hands. He realized he was staring and looked away in embarrassment. Helen settled in beside him, the glow from her necklace now the only thing allowing them to see in the darkness. “Perhaps it is within the comfort of darkness that I feel able to be so frank…but I confess that the more I get to know you, Nikola, the less I understand you.”

 

         He looked at her with concern, leaning his back against the rock and holding the handkerchief to his bleeding brow. “I am not one to conceal his thoughts…”

 

         Helen gave a wry smile at that. “Of that one can be certain. But of the contents of your heart, Nikola, you remain most elusive.” Nikola considered her gravely for a moment, and then lifted his nose to the challenge. “I am not a man who keeps secrets. Ask away, Helen. What is it you desire to know?”

 

         Helen looked down to the necklace she wore, building up the courage to ask, and then met his gaze. “Do you…care for me?”

 

         Nikola blinked once and replied without a hint of embarrassment. “Very much. And you must care for me also?”

 

         Helen laughed to hide her shyness, fidgeting with a lock of her hair. “I mean, Nikola, do your affections extend beyond that of being mere friends?”

 

         Nikola smirked at her, folding his arms across his chest. “Now who is being elusive? Try that again without so many words.”

 

         Helen sighed in frustration, and swatted his arm playfully. “I mean to ask, Nikola, do you love me?”

 

         “Yes.”

 

She saw the infuriating sly grin on his face and huffed, eyes narrowing. “Why?”

 

He eased back, crossing his legs on the ground and letting his head rest against the wall. “Helen, you are fascinating. I am a man bored easily, but every moment with you is engaging and inspiring. I normally would not offer such honorifics unto anyone but with you I feel no shame in saying I am often humbled by your brilliance.” His gaze rose to meet hers, his eyes a stormy gray-blue. “In you I see endless possibility…the beginning of new thoughts and dreams the world is not yet ready for. I think you will always be one step ahead of the shuffling masses and I confess I am hopelessly drawn to that.”

 

Helen felt a small, somewhat sad, smile twist her lips as she stroked the glass charm around her neck. She looked into his earnest face and felt as if she understood. “You love me as you love science.”

 

Nikola looked confused by the emotion on her face, knowing he had upset her but unsure as to how. “What better way is there to love?”

 

Helen smiled, shaking her head of all wistful thoughts, and looked at him reassuringly. “Perhaps you are right. Forgive me a moment’s silliness. Come.” She held out her hand to his. “Let us go home.”

 

***

 

         “And how was the train, love?”

 

         “Tolerable.” Helen pursed her lips, looking at her father knowingly. “Surely you do not mean to inquire solely on my travel, father?”

 

         Gregory laughed, hanging up her traveling cloak and taking her arm. “Alas, you have found me out. What did you find in the crypt?”

 

         Wordlessly, Helen brought forth the vial of blood and Gregory’s eyes lit up. He looked to her, excited as a young boy on Christmas, and then swelled with pride. “Well done, oh, well done.”

 

         Gregory held the vial up to the light to better examine the contents, lips moving silently as he marveled at what puzzles it would contain. He then pressed the vial back into Helen’s hand. “It is your discovery and you should be the one to see it through. Oh, what fantastic things you will learn.” His smiling eyes then darkened slightly with worry. “But remember, Helen…tread carefully.”

 

         Helen laughed. “Not to worry, father, we are not planning on destroying anymore of Oxford’s property.”

 

         He smiled ruefully, shaking his head. “You are all young, with the arrogance, brilliance, and curiosity of the young. Perhaps I should not scold so much…it does not last forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rudolf the Debonair, or Rudolf II Duke of Austria reigned 1282-1283 dying suddenly and by unknown causes at age 20. His rule was strife with in-fighting amongst his brothers and struggles for land and power. He was a son jointly of the Hapsburg and Hohenburg houses.


	6. Young Gods

         “They used to _ingest_ the blood?” The look of horror on John’s face was only matched by the look of disgust on Nikola’s.

 

         James seemed untroubled by the information, calmly reading through the rest of the book that was left behind in Rudolf the Debonair’s coffin. “It apparently has several miraculous properties. The men would drink small amounts of it before going into battle to inherit the powers of their ancestors. Incredible restoration, regeneration, an increase in strength and speed…” He grinned and winked at John. “It sounds positively exciting, old boy.”

 

         “It sounds vile,” John said.

 

         Nigel thoughtfully took a long drag on his cigarette. “The mice seem like a good place to start then, James. We can easily come up with some simple tests to determine if they have increased in strength.”

 

         Nikola shrugged. “This miraculous blood did not help Rudolf or his brothers escape the assassin’s blade.”

 

         James closed the book. “Well, it seems the history of royalty is the same in all manners, vampiric descendants or not.” James sipped from his cup of tea, forgoing brandy this evening, and his hand trembled slightly as he set the cup back down on its saucer. To spare him any embarrassment, none of the men gathered pretended to notice, though John’s concern grew.

 

         “We will have access to the laboratories tomorrow. Let us retire until then.” John drained his glass, and passed James his bowler hat. “Come on, chap, I shall see you home.”

 

         James sighed dramatically as he put on his coat. “I dislike being infirm…” He waved away John’s arm and cuffed him up the back of the head at John’s mocking curtsey. They left in good cheer, bickering. Nigel shook his head, laughing at them, as he stubbed the last of his cigarette out.

 

         “So, how was Vienna?”

 

         Nikola lifted a conspiratorial eyebrow and then brought out a box from his satchel. Curious, Nigel opened the box and brought out a fine bottle of traditional wine spirits. He let out an appreciative whistle and waggled his eyebrows devilishly. “You are a fine man, indeed. What does it taste like?”

 

         Nikola thought and then shrugged. “Fire?”

 

         Nigel uncorked the bottle and took a sniff, sneezing at its spicy aroma. “That’ll do.” He leaned over the table and whispered, “Want to break into Doctor White’s office and polish this off?”

 

         Nikola’s eyebrows rose in alarm. “That is _very_ strong, you will kill yourself if you try to drink it all at once.”

 

         Nigel laughed, re-corking the bottle and stuffing it into his coat. “Which is why you are going to help me. Come on, man.” He got up from the table and shooed Nikola out of his chair, strong-arming him out the door.

 

         “What was in that letter you wanted me to give to Helen anyway?”

 

         Nikola huffed, watching his breath stream out from his nose in the cold winter air, shoving his hands self-consciously into his pockets. “It was my attempt at a poem…”

 

***

 

         Helen opened the envelope, her curiosity stirring, and carefully eased out the sheets of paper within. They were covered with Nikola’s spidery handwriting and her lips quirked in an amused smile as to what new bedevilment he had been up to.

 

         _Helen,_

 _I have considered the questions raised by you on the night of the Yule party and believe I have come up with a solution that marries both parties together without conflict. We are explorers in an exciting Age of Reason, Science and Discovery, though this does not preclude us from the more human emotions of wonder, awe and ambition._

 _Electrical current in its rawest form can overwhelm a man, stopping his heart dead and can seem the most cruel of mistresses. Yet within our hearts she beats alongside us, housing that most precious organ and allowing us the ability to live. We cannot escape her, and I have embraced this partnership now whereas before I was too afraid and proud to submit fully to such a wild element…_

 _Here I have outlined the signal patterns the current within the heart gives off over a cycle of twenty-seven rotations (three to the power of three!)._

 _3, 2, 1, 1, 2, 1, 3, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 3, 3…_

What followed were several lines of numbers, all alternating between the first three numerical digits. Helen puzzled over this pattern, tilting her head at his addendum _, It is also the steps of a waltz_.

 

         Before she could think further on the riddle she heard a rapping at the door. “Miss Magnus, a Mr. Druitt to see you.”

 

         Helen placed the letter into her desk, wistfully thinking she would puzzle it out later. Her mind was preoccupied at present with the thoughts of _Twelfth Night_.

 

***

 

         Helen was nearly bouncing with joy after a magical night in the theatre, her mind humming as it recreated her favourite scenes against the backdrop of a snow-dusted London.

 

         “Oh! It was marvelous, John – it has been a truly enjoyable evening.”

 

         John smiled, immoderately pleased, and said, “Yes, but so cruel for the evening to end already. I feel as if a minute has not passed, let alone a few hours.”

 

         Helen plucked the end of her shawl nervously, trying to keep her voice cool and innocent. “If you wished, we could retire back at my father’s for a cup of tea. He is home at present.”

 

         John squeezed her arm a little tighter as he hailed a carriage and gave her a warm smile. “I would not wish to impede further on your sleeping hours. James tells me this devilry with the source blood begins already, and at such an early hour tomorrow.”

 

         They climbed into the carriage, John seating himself beside her. He took her hand, his eyes glittering with tenderness, and fumbled over his next few words. “We may not be acquainted as intimately as may be appropriate…for…” He looked up at her, nervous. “Helen, I find myself wanting nothing more than to be in your company for the rest of my life. I care for you without measure, and I believe you reciprocate such sentiments for me.”

 

         John brought out a small velvet box and Helen’s eyes widened when it opened to reveal a ring. She was struck dumb as he took her hand.

 

         “I promise to make you happy for all eternity.”

 

         And Helen felt that he would…and that vow was one he would take to his grave. She felt her heart pounding in her ears, and unbeknownst to her a free smile unfolded on her face. She nodded, happy and unable to speak, when suddenly her smile dropped to an expression of panic. “Did you ask my father?”

 

         John tried to hold back a laugh and gave a rueful nod. “I called on your father to express my intentions whilst you were away in Austria.” John raised an eyebrow. “He chased me out of the house with a gun, shot my hat off my head, then helped me to my feet and offered me a brandy.”

 

         Helen felt her face go red with embarrassment, a laugh bubbling up in her throat. She tried to hold it back, apologetic, but failed miserably. “I am sorry, I am sure you will both get along just fine.”

 

         John slipped the ring unto her finger and kissed her hand. “I am indebted to him…as I am indebted to you.” His hands came up to her face and no more was said as their mouths met in a sweet, hungry kiss.

 

***

 

         “I swear to god, man, the mouse was right there!”

 

         James held up the empty cage, shaking it aloft. “Well, where is it now then? A mouse cannot just disappear into thin air!”

 

         Nigel did not know what to say further about the empty cage and angrily shoved his hands into his pockets. James was still shaking the cage as he berated Nigel. “The test mouse injected with source blood is the _one_ you should have paid due diligence to! There is only so much of that blood at our disposal – one night, _one night_ you had to keep away from the pub—“

 

         “Oh, all right, mother – I’m sorry!” Nigel snapped, rolling himself a cigarette. “Next time I shall do my drinking in the lab, shall I?”

 

         James looked as if he were about to burst a vein in his forehead when Nikola pointed to the cage, confused. “Is that your culprit?”

 

         The other men looked to the cage in James’ hand and saw a terrified mouse clinging to the walls after having been shaken about so violently. James nearly dropped the cage in shock, and Nigel groaned, “It’s shit itself!”

 

         “B-But…but how is that possible?” James set the cage down staring at the mouse in horror.

 

         “I think you owe me an apology?” Nigel quipped.

 

         Nikola gave him one of his trademark deadpan stares and asked, “Why? You were still so drunk last night you forgot my name.”

 

         Helen and John entered the lab right when Nigel slapped a rolled up newspaper over Nikola’s head. John drawled, “Violent beginning to the morning?”

 

         James pointed a trembling finger to the cage. “The mouse…it disappeared and then reappeared again!”

 

         John stared at him bewildered. “You’re losing your mind, old boy.”

 

         Helen laughed at them. “Gentlemen, if we can lay our quarrel aside for just a moment. John and I have some news.”

 

         Nikola felt his heart sink into his stomach, his keen eyes already grasping what the others were too distracted to notice. She was not wearing the necklace he made for her…and there was a ring upon her finger…

 

         “We are engaged to marry.” Helen’s smile was radiant. She was too encased in her own joy to see the flurry of reactions from the other men, holding tightly to John’s hand and sharing a warm smile with him.

 

         James stiffened for a second, sharing a soul-stopping gaze with John for a split second, before smiling slowly in resignation. Nigel glanced quickly over to Nikola, who had gone rigid and stone-faced.

 

         Nigel looked back quickly to the happy couple, all bluster and cheer. “Well done! Well done you two. Look, let us leave this mouse fiasco behind for today and let you enjoy this moment.” He shook John’s hand vigorously and kissed Helen on the cheek, before grabbing Nikola’s arm. “We shall see you all tomorrow, and you Johnny – I shall throw you the wildest stag party polite society has never seen. Come on, Tesla, we’ve got liquor to buy.”

 

         Still rabbitting on to cover the awkward silences, Nigel dragged Nikola out of the room and shut the door firmly behind them.

 

         James was left by himself, his hands still awkwardly fidgeting with the mouse cage. Clearing his throat and trying to remember his manners, he strode over to them and grasped John’s hand. “Congratulations.”

 

         He could see the trepidation on Helen’s face and winced inwardly, seeing clearly how much he had caused her worry and upset. With a warm smile he clasped her hands and said, “I view John as my truest brother, and with this union I hope to be able to see you as my sister.” He kissed her on the cheek as John mouthed him a silent, “thank you”.

 

***

 

         Nikola sat heavily into his chair, oblivious to his surroundings or how he had even managed to get back to his rooms. Nigel bolted the door and sat down opposite him, worried. He snapped his fingers in front of Nikola’s face. “Calling Tesla…hullo?”

 

         Nikola didn’t look up from the floor. “Do you have any of the wine spirits left?”

 

         Nigel’s face lined with sympathy and he reached inside his satchel. “About half a bottle?”

 

         Numbly, Nikola nodded and accepted the outstretched drink. “That will have to do.” He pulled the cork out with his teeth, spitting it to the ground and taking a deep sip.

 

         Nigel took a swig from the bottle as well before passing it back. He fidgeted in his chair, trying to find the right words and finally asked, “Are you all right?”

 

         Nikola drank more quickly. “I am a genius, of course I am all right.”

 

         Nigel sighed, able to see straight past the other man’s prickly arrogance. “Did you two quarrel in Vienna?”

 

         Nikola dumbly shook his head, wiping stray drops of spirits from his mouth. Then, quietly, he said, “I told her that I loved her. She asked.” He sighed heavily, shoulders sagging. “I do not think she believed me. I do not think she ever has.”

 

         His eyes suddenly snapped up to meet Nigel’s, afire with urgency. “ _Do not_ let her know. If she thinks of it all as harmless jest and teasing then let her continue to believe so. _Promise me_ , Griffin.”

 

         Startled by the force and desperation of the request, Nigel quickly agreed. “I promise! I promise, old boy.”

 

         “I have lost her to the poet…I cannot lose her as a friend too.” Nikola’s voice was thick with bitterness and regret. “I do not know what age we live in anymore…Romance or Reason – but I think on both counts I have lost.”

 

***

 

         Nikola winced, lightly pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling deeply. He swallowed the rest of the water in his glass before returning to the microscope. He regretted drinking so much, especially as Nigel was passed out on his bed… _drooling_. Ousted from his rooms he decided to pick up on the experiment knowing he would not sleep this night anyway.

 

         “Oh – hello. You gave me a fright, Tesla.” Nikola looked up and saw James by the door. Squinting, he muttered. “Please put out that lantern. The light is bothering me right now.”

 

         James sniffed lightly, smelling the alcohol on Nikola’s hair and clothing. The poor man had certainly looked in better shape, and James extinguished the lantern before coming over. “What the devil are you doing here at this hour? It is three past midnight.”

 

         Nikola waved a hand over the microscope and the mouse within its cage. “I am examining if there are any changes in the test subject.”

 

         James looked over with interest. “What have you determined?”

 

         Nikola swayed in his chair, rubbing his temples. “Only that I am sitting but the room is still spinning.”

 

         James smiled wryly, pulling up a chair beside Nikola. Nothing escaped James’ notice and he found his opinion of the other man softening…even if he was an arrogant toss. “The engagement has upset you. You had feelings for Helen.”

 

         Nikola looked to James, his eyes as sharp as cut glass. He eyed James with suspicion, unsure of his loyalties, and evenly replied. “And you had feelings for John.”

 

         James was shocked, feeling his blood slick with ice at the bald truth of such a bold, rude statement. The tables had suddenly turned and he now found himself squirming. “John and I are very close friends. I admit I acted foolishly out of fear that this attachment may have jeopardized that—“

 

         Nikola snorted, shaking his head. He was not fooled. “I do not know what the views on such a ‘friendship’ are like here, but I see how you look at him. Your growing arguments and estrangement, your growing dependence on your ‘tonics’.” Nikola shrugged, and while James still sensed an edge in the other man’s voice he was surprised to hear no judgment or condemnation.

 

         “We have both had our hopes taken away by the worst kind of captor…our closest friend.” Nikola draped a cloth over the mouse cage. “We will have to endure their exultations again and again and always be happy for them.” He wore a bitter smile. “That is the price for losing.”

 

         Nikola rose to his feet, swiping back his fly-away hair. He regarded James coolly, but softened. They had something in common now, a bond they would never speak of but always remember. “Here we are, both divided from our desires and doomed to solitude. You, because you say nothing, and I, because I said too much.”

 

         Nikola, for once, gave James a small bow of good night and left the laboratory, leaving his fellow scientist alone in the room with only his thoughts and the mouse for comfort.

 

***

 

         “Nigel!”

 

         “Hullo, love.” Nigel kissed Helen fondly on the cheek and took her arm. “Lectures are starting again in a week…and I have not yet had the opportunity to fully cleanse my mind of all the good learning Oxford has tried to impart with me.”

 

         Helen smiled coyly. “Well, your endeavours to do so have certainly created a legend of you down at the Five Lords.”

 

         Nigel gave her a devilish wink. “I still say you should dress in men’s clothing and join us one evening. I would just say you were my cousin from back home. How is your Glaswegian accent?”

 

         “Atrocious.” Helen sighed. “Your cousin Amelia keeps trying to persuade me to look at wedding clothes with her.”

 

         Nigel affected a look of outrage. “How depressingly feminine.”

 

         “Indeed.”  Helen worried at her bottom lip for a moment, glancing at Nigel cautiously. “I have not seen Nikola around campus.”

 

         Nigel shrugged, his free hand stuffed into a pocket. “He left for Smiljan two days ago. His mother threatened to come up to England herself if he did not make an appearance.”

 

         Helen tried to stifle a giggle. “But he will not stay long?”

 

         “Not if he can help it. I expect he shall be back tomorrow.”

 

         “Good.” Helen put on a coy smile and mysteriously said, “I have a new phase for our experiments to propose and I think we should all be present for it.”

 

         “Oh?” Nigel raised a curious eyebrow and playfully jostled her. “Out with it.”

         Helen shook her head imperiously. “Not until the Five is gathered again.”

 

         “Cheeky.”

 

         Helen then cast her eyes to the ground, a nervous question on her lips. Thoughtful, she brought out a sheet of paper from her pocket. “I was wondering if you could help me translate this.”

 

         Nigel took the paper curiously and realized it was the letter Nikola had asked him to deliver. He glanced up briefly at Helen, worried his surprise had revealed something to betray Nikola, and looked back down to the letter again. Helen pursed her lips, pointing to the series of numbers. “It is a treatise on electrical current, or so I thought, but I realized these patterns are actually a riddle. If one ignores all other numbers except for three their placement actually creates letters.”

 

         Her fingers traced the path of the three’s and she recited, “Volim Te”. She looked to Nigel, confused. “I know you may not have the answer, but I have noticed that Nikola has been teaching you some Serbian. Do you know what this means?”

 

         Nigel licked his lips nervously, hoping Helen would not notice his discomfort and tried to keep his voice as light as possible. “I think it means light. Or The Light.”

 

         Helen looked eagerly to the letter with dawning comprehension. “Oh…it must be the pattern of currents in his electric torch! Very clever…” Helen grinned at Nigel, playfully swatting him with the letter. “And look at you, Mr. Griffin. Our breadth of knowledge has both been expanded.”

 

         Nigel tried to smile and agreed. “In more ways than one.”

 

***

 

         “ _Injection?_ ”

 

         “Yes,” Helen said gravely. “For all we can test on mice, we will never uncover the full effects of the source blood unless we test it on a human subject. Our physiologies are more closely related to a vampire’s than a mouse would be…and we have seen with interbreeding that the combining of genetics is possible.”

 

         John had a dark look on his face. “What if the effects are permanent?”

 

         Helen tried to assuage his concerns with a small smile, but her convictions held firm. “All discoveries require a certain amount of risk. I am offering myself as a test subject to further our knowledge.”

 

“If you are going to inject yourself with the blood than so shall I,” Nikola suddenly said, his tone brooking no refusal. “You said yourself the effects would differ from person to person. If you want to take that risk than allow us to maximize our findings.”

 

         Helen shook her head. “Nikola, _no_ —“

 

         “You cannot deny me this, Helen.” His voice was soft and dangerous.

 

         “I agree,” James cut in. “With Nikola. We have all been involved in this experiment. We should all decide how we want to see it through. Let us not take the choice lightly…but tomorrow night we will all arrive with a decision.”

 

         Nikola turned on his heel and left without any comment, as he was wont to do. Nigel came to John’s side and gestured for them to walk together. Surprised, John excused himself from Helen and James and followed their celebrated chemist out into the hall.

 

         “Something troubling you, Griffin?”

 

         Nigel lit himself a cigarette. “Yes, as a matter of course. I once said you would be valuable to us as a human gauge for our work, John, and I did not make the comment lightly. Injection…” He looked up at John, troubled. “Are we reaching too far?”

 

         John walked thoughtfully beside him, a hand scrubbing the side of his face. “What do your instincts tell you?”

 

         Nigel shrugged. “That this is the most exciting, thrilling work I will ever do in my life. And it could ruin me.”

 

         John muttered darkly, “I have those feelings too.”

 

         “Then why are you letting Helen do this? Perhaps we are all putting ourselves in danger—“

 

         “Because this is important to Helen,” John intoned deeply, a smile peeking through the storm cloud on his face. “Because this is what she was born to do. And if she is to face danger, instead of denying her, I will be there at her side to face it with her as partners should do.” He laughed a little self-consciously. “’Til death do us part, as they say…”

 

         Nigel laughed as well, smoke curling out from his nostrils. “Death…or madness.”

 

***

 

         “I…I see everything.” James gripped the edges of the chair, the pain that wracked his body after injection having finally subsided.

 

         “What on earth does that even mean?” John asked, still rubbing his pounding temples.

 

         James’ eyes darted about the room. “Your housekeeper is ill, a slight buildup of mucus in the left sinus as there are scrapings on the ground from bumping into the table, and the right hand side of your curtains has been tied sloppily. Your father’s missing pen is in that jar of posies – I noticed a drop of water on his cuff and from that window box to his desk is a trail of books he had read recently.”

 

         Helen’s eyes widened. “Good heavens, James…that is remarkable.”

 

         “Can you see me?” They turned to the sound of Nigel’s voice, only to see his clothes standing upright without a body. James nearly toppled over in his chair as Nigel suddenly flickered in and out of sight again.

 

         “Good god, man, you are an apparition!”

 

         They heard a moan as Nikola suddenly fell to his knees, a table crashing to the ground beside him. “Nikola?” Helen rose to her feet as his body was wracked with violent seizures. He struggled weakly to prop himself up, and she noticed his fingers had extended into black, cruel talons. Frightened, she took a step back.

 

         “Dear god…” Nigel breathed.

 

         Nikola shook, his face rigid with fear, and they saw his eyes were black and devoid of any colour. When he spoke his voice had deepened to an unearthly tone. “Helen? Help me…”

 

         She couldn’t raise her voice above a whisper as she gazed at the embodiment of their hubris. “What have we done?”


	7. Epilogue

         Nikola stepped out of the carriage, the brisk autumn winds plucking at his hair and clothes. He looked about the London streets, feeling again like a bit of a stranger despite the familiar surroundings. Taking a deep breath, he made his way up to Gregory Magnus’ door and knocked.

 

         The door swung open to reveal Helen, a few lines of sorrow etched around her eyes and a gravity to her presence. She smiled genuinely when she saw him though, and embraced him. She held his face in her hands and sighed. “I must say I do not miss the moustache at all.”

 

         He smirked as she beckoned him in, self-consciously rubbing his clean-shaven face. “Neither do the Americans…what we do to be accepted.”

 

         “It looks as if the New World is agreeing with you.”

 

         “It is.” He saw the pain lurking in her eyes behind the light teasing and squeezed her hand.

 

         The tender gesture shook her brave face for a moment and she whispered, “I am really glad you came, Nikola. I wish it were under better circumstances.”

 

         He shushed her gently. “I would never deny your missive. Come, the others must be waiting.”

 

         They entered Gregory’s study to find James and Nigel poring over a map of London. There were red marks for every place the Whitechapel murderer had taken a victim. Nigel turned to see them enter and heartily shook Nikola’s hand despite the somber mood. James could not tear his eyes away from the map.

 

         “He will strike here or here.” James pointed to two alleys in the East end before turning to Nigel. “Your women will be in place?”

 

         Nigel nodded grimly. “I have outfitted them all with a pistol…I just hope it is enough to keep them out of danger.” He then took a vial from Gregory’s desk and gave it to Nikola. “This is the compound…only you are fast enough to keep up with him. I tried, but…” Nigel smiled mirthlessly, his bandaged hand speaking volumes. “…he sniffed me out.”

 

         Nikola nodded gravely, filling a syringe with the serum and then tucking it safely into his pocket. “Let us begin.”

 

***

 

         The shrill cry of the bobby’s whistle pierced through the night as John teleported away from the bleeding, screaming woman. His attempt had been sabotaged and he had the uneasy feeling that he had been followed.

 

         “Druitt!” John turned and saw Nikola standing under the street lamp, eyes black. He blinked and Nikola was in front of him, talons around his throat.

 

         “Send a monster to catch one – how ticklish!” John laughed, even as he felt his supply of air cut off. Nikola’s eyes glittered darkly, but John gazed mildly back without any fear. “Do you not see, old boy? You will not be able to hold me at all.”

 

         With a savage push Druitt threw Nikola from him, hackles rising. “You could never hold anything over me.”

 

         Nikola chuckled mirthlessly, the darkness thick in his voice. “Johnny, Johnny…where has our sensitive poet gone? I never thought I would actually miss him.”

 

         John hurled his hand forward and a knife thudded into Nikola’s chest. Growling, Nikola pulled the blade slowly from his heart, his face constricting with pain. The blade clattered to the ground, Nikola no worse for wear.

 

         An ugly expression took John’s face and he spat out, “Oh do not waste your breath on platitudes. You never had a kind thought about me, there is no point in pretending.” John waved goodbye and attempted to teleport.

 

         His confusion grew to menace when he saw the smug grin on Nikola’s face. He suddenly convulsed, his body on fire, and fell to his knees. This is when he noticed the syringe growing out of his shoulder. Weak, he gave a bitter laugh. “Very nice. Poison?”

 

         Nikola walked coolly over and lowered to his ankles. “A tranquilizer.”

 

         John laughed again, his breathing growing laboured as his vision began to blur. “You know I feel sorry for you, Tesla. You were always the one on the outside…always the stranger. And now you have your fangs and claws – you cannot even belong to humanity anymore.”

 

         Nikola gave his head a shake, the black eyes and fangs disappearing. He looked down at the struggling man with a mixture of contempt and pity. “I feel sorry too. Sorry that it was you who so miserably failed your responsibility and broke Helen’s heart.”

 

         “Helen…” John’s voice was strangled as he whispered her name, grief striking his face for a split second before it twisted into black hatred once more. “That makes me pity you most.”

 

         John’s vision was fading to black and he struggled to stay awake, cursing whatever toxin it was flowing through his veins. He saw Tesla, still regarding him mildly, a hand holding up his head. “We are one and the same in that now, Johnny boy. The Age of Romance passed, taking with it her poets and dreamers and lovers. The world wants Industry now…a new god in efficiency.”

 

         Nikola grasped John’s collar and lifted his head up so he could whisper in his ear. “Helen has learned now the pitfalls of keeping science as her lord and master. And now, she will never entertain another.”

 

         Nikola released him, John’s head cruelly hitting the ground with a smack. Soon, James and Scotland Yard would be arriving to retrieve his now unconscious form. Helen would be there to witness it all without tears or regrets. The time for that had ended as well.

 

         Nikola sighed, getting to his feet and leaning against the alley wall. The light from the street post was the only illumination in the otherwise darkened streets. He lightly kicked John’s shoulder and when there was no response determined they were truly alone.

 

         “Goodbye, John…you actually were a decent man.”

 

         Nikola shoved his hands into his pockets and waited for the others to once again, after a long time, be reunited as the Five.

 

***

END

 


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